


Like We're Goanna Die Young

by MosquitoParade, SnowFoxxOfHere, SummerGalaxy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: A Lot Of Castiel Description, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Anal Sex, Angst, Anxiety is heavily mentioned, Archangels and Angels are not related, Archangels are Related, Blow Jobs, Bullying, Burns, Castiel Is Too Pretty, Castiel and Crowley kiss for reasons, Chuck Shurley Is Not Related To The Archangels, Cigarettes, Comfortably Bisexual Dean Winchester, Consensual prostitution, Crowley (Supernatural) Just Wants To Be Loved, Crowley Smokes, Crowley adores his motorcycle, Crowley and Lucifer's relationship is complicated, Crowley is 18 during the halloween party, Crowley is 18 vs Castiel who is 17, Crowley woos Castiel but Castiel isn't interested, Daddy Kink, Depression Is Mentioned, Drunk Sex, F/F, Gay Castiel (Supernatural), Getting Back Together, Getting incredibly drunk at the Halloween Party, Halloween, Halloween Party is 2nd chapter, High School, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Jack Rooney, Jack comforts Kevin, Jack's parents are Jefferson Rooney and Kelly Rooney (Married), Kissing, Light Sadism, Lucifer Isn't Jack's Dad, Lucifer is the eldest brother, M/M, Masochism, Masturbation, Mentioned Shoplifting, Mentions of underaged drinking but no one is specifically called out, Motorcycles, Multi, One Of The Authors Is A Crowley Whump, One-Sided Attraction, Oral Sex, Parental Abuse, Pining, Public Anal Penetration, Public Sex, Recreational Drug Use, References to Depression, Restaurants, Rollerblades & Rollerskates, Self-Doubt, Semi-Public Blow Jobs, Semi-public masturbation, Sex, Sex for Money, Skating, Skipping Class, Smoking, Some kids do have anxiety but no one's diagnosed them, Some of the Angels are related while others are not, Vomiting, We All Love And Support Castiel In This House, anxiety disorders, burn kink, cigarette burns, everyone is a bitch in high school, mentions of cheating on tests or in classes, mentions of non consensual grade manipulation, mentions of possible food poisoning, nurse's office, stress-induced sickness, tags to be added as we go, these tags are not in any order but all are relevant at one point or another, we get around to tagging late
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-11-07
Packaged: 2019-07-20 13:31:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16138262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MosquitoParade/pseuds/MosquitoParade, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SnowFoxxOfHere/pseuds/SnowFoxxOfHere, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SummerGalaxy/pseuds/SummerGalaxy
Summary: Welcome to high school, where the only people that find it tolerable are a select few football players, a smattering of Cheerleaders, and Castiel.School life is typically divided by the normal kids, the honor students/the Angels, and the Demons; the group of kids known for bullying and screwing up life for pretty much everyone.In chapter 2, the infamous demon's Halloween party takes place, and a special someone returns to make life harder for everyone.In chapter 3, Crowley takes Castiel out to skate, and eat. Well, kind of.In chapter 4, Thanksgiving goes down at the Winchesters, with several of the Shurley's, Jack, and Kevin.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This is my first official fic, and I'm pretty proud of how it's turned out so far! Please excuse any OOC-ness, I can't capture certain characters as well as others. I hope you enjoy it though. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ I don't think there are that many trigger warnings for this chap. Um, mentions of abusive parents, I suppose? If y'all think there should be more, hit me up. :)  
> -Snow  
> PS: I'm not the Crowley whump.
> 
> PS: There's no real main characters, but some characters do get more spotlight, seeing some of us, me, like to write in the middle of the night and rant.  
> -Mosquito~

Dean exhaled indignantly through his nose, flicking his eyes to the seat in front of him and earning an excellent view of the back of Fergus "Crowley" MacLoed's head.

Though a man of a strong will, Dean wasn't sure he could survive another minute of this lecture. He reached into his pocket and fished out his phone, resting it in his hand under his desk. He tapped the password out when it was asked for, and scrolled through his texts rapidly. There was a text from Sam. It simply read 'Hey, call me when you get this.'

Well, that was odd. The text had been sent during one of his changing periods. Sam tried not to contact him at all during school hours. If anything, he'd contact his brother during his lunch period, so the time stamp that Dean had to reread a few times was out of the ordinary, to say the least.

Just as Dean was contemplating, well, hell, he didn't know what, but he was _contemplating_ , he felt a gentle tap on the back of his shoulder. He turned around to meet a gorgeous blue set of worried eyes, and, _God_ , Dean didn't think he'd ever be able to get over how adorable Castiel was. The way his eyebrows creased, and the slight pout in his pursed lips. The way his hand subconsciously fidgeted with the hem of his barely dress code trenchcoat that he'd been wearing when they'd first met. The way he repetitively tapped his foot on the ground in a soothing pattern, never letting up the movement, and- oh, shit, he was saying something.

"It's just that no one really wants you to get detention again, okay?" He finished, his eyes on Dean's phone anxiously. Oh, he wanted him to put the phone away. Yeah, he could do that. He put his phone back in his pocket, turning his head back to Castiel.

That's when he heard the low, abrasive voice of, currently, the biggest antagonist of Dean's schooling, join into the conversation, "Well, no offense to you, kitten, but I'm unconvinced that anyone in this room, aside from you, cares whether or not your boyfriend gets detention. _Again_ " He looked questioningly at Castiel, an almost playful smirk on his face.

"I do, though," Castiel murmured softly, slipping his hand onto Dean's, which was resting on his desk. He glanced over at the professor, who had finished his speech and retired to his seat a matter of minutes ago. He hummed quietly as he peeped at the time. "Well, class is about to be over," Cas bit at the inside of his cheek, trying to remember if he had plans today.

"Yo, don't you have Drama Club after school?" Dean asked, rubbing his thumb over Cas's knuckles, turning his body around so that he wouldn't have to see Crowley out of his peripheral.

"Oh, that's right. Thanks, Dean." He gave the other man a gentle smile, and Dean could fucking _drown_ in that ocean of a pair of eyes. 

"Gag me," Crowley said, evidently addressing exclusively Dean. "You two should get a room," Crowley sighed, looking down at his phone and tapping away at something.

***

Sam paused for a moment, gulping down a greedy breath as he glanced to his left, watching as Gabriel, his boyfriend, came to a halt beside him. 

"Wassup, shorty?" He panted, a lopsided grin plastered on his face. "We still planning on playing video games at your house once this hellscape gets out?

"Yeah, of course," Sam commented, it was starting to get to that odd in-between of summer and fall where it's not cool enough to warrant a jacket anymore by noon, but you really wished you had one after the sun sets. So, while Sam would normally be against staying inside all day, the temperature, coupled with Gabriel's persistence, causes him to favor the idea. "Dean has soccer practice, so we should have the house to ourselves," Sam muttered absentmindedly, glancing at his boyfriend.

"Ooh. My favorite," Gabe replied, wiggling his eyebrows.

"Hey, Winchester! Shurley!" Mrs. Mills shouted from the other side of the field, where she had been speaking with Ms. Hanscum. "Get back to running! Keep up your pace!"

***

As Sam and Gabe walked out of the front doors of the school, Sam felt his phone vibrate in his pocket.

"Sorry, babe," Sam said, disentangling his hand from Gabe's for a moment to take his phone out.

Sam glanced at the caller ID, recognizing it as Dean's. He swiped the screen to accept the call and pressed the phone to his ear.

"Sammy?" Dean asked, a trace of worry in his voice. "Are you okay? What was that text about?"

"Oh, it's not important anymore. I just ran into someone I wasn't expecting to, it's okay-"

"Sammy! Come back to bed~" Gabriel moaned over the phone.

"Oh, shit. Sorry, Sam, didn't know I was keeping you from getting laid." Dean chuckled on the other end.

"No," Sam said, giving a pointed glare at Gabe, who smiled smugly, "It's not like that-" He sputtered, but was abruptly hung up on.

"God dammit, Gabe" Sam sighed, rolling his eyes.

"My pleasure," Gabriel replied, snatching Sam's hand back up and leaning onto his arm.

***

Samandriel packed his backpack at a decent pace and slipped his phone from his pocket. He was in no hurry to leave. The charms that the youngest Novak had managed to keep in good condition jingled softly as the screen lit up, and began walking. The lock screen, a picture of him and Castiel during a fall event some years ago, greeted him. He input his birthdate, and the phone opened to the soft yellow, orange, and brown of the cute autumn leaves and acorn home screen. He liked to change it with seasons and holidays for festivity.

He opened his texts and was met with Castiel's contact. Immediately he sent a cat gif he'd saved during lunch his brother's way. There was a happy chime to tell him that he'd received another text.

_'Where are you'_

That's weird; Jack doesn't normally text him such trivial things. He took a glance at the on-screen clock. Oh. His locker neighbors had taken a bit longer than normal, and, he guessed that he'd lost track of time, seeing as it was 5 minutes later than normal. So, he opened Jack's message, and began a response.

However, he paused before finishing the first word.

Stopped by the cry of someone. He couldn't identify the person by the noise, but, as he briskly walked, he knew. "F- God! Please!" The ringing, shrill, head-aching voice of Metatron, Principal Edlund's scribe. He had a very clear choice here. Metatron hadn't seen him yet, and he could easily pretend it never happened.

 _'Does Kevin still have a Shurley w him?'_ Samandriel typed out quickly. He couldn't leave Metatron with a good conscience.

 _'yes. y?'_ came the hasty reply.

 _'Metatron. B hall. Some room. Demons.'_ The older boy responded, waiting uneasily.

 _'Raph is coming' 'lets go'_ Jack texts back.

Samandriel exhales a breath he didn't know he was holding. Thank God, okay. Now he could carry on. Someone would deal with that.

***

Metatron happily exchanged a few favors for Demon immunity. After all, he did good business with Lucifer, and continued to keep a good reputation with Crowley, and his legion. So, they happily would beat up the Prophet, Kevin, every so often. Especially when Metatron was particularly good with his mouth, or gave lower Demons a reason to listen closely while explaining his terms and conditions.

Low Demons were so malleable, and with repetitive good word, he was sitting pretty at a very, very good association with Crowley. So, it was not an issue when the King stopped by at the end of the school day, after Mr. Edlund and all other teachers have already gone home.

"So, who might you have wrapped around your finger today?" Crowley's voice rumbled, low and easy on Metatron's ears.

"Hmm, no one especially. Why do you ask?" The Scribe responded, glancing at Crowley's hands, which were tucked neatly in his jacket.

"It just seems like I've been hearing a lot about you all the sudden. You haven't been in my Demons' heads, have you?" That dark growl graced Metatron's existence, and he loved it.

"It's not my fault they like what I offer," Metatron smiled, "Maybe you'd like to follow in their footsteps?"

"You're a whore, hen," Crowley hissed, and it seemed like maybe Crowley had gotten taller. Metatron felt very small beside him. "I don't like the way you affect them."

"But I'm not drugging them or anything," Metatron said, offended, crossing his arms in a childish way. Something like recognition passed Crowley's face before it disappeared to that sullen look of a distraught King leading followers that rather liked the promise of sex or head, to drugs, money, and alcohol.

"Metatron, you shouldn't-"

"If this is jealousy, Crowley, I'm absolutely fine with giving you a turn, big boy." Metatron interrupted, giving Crowley a flirty look.

"I don't-"

"C'mon, you know you want to see what's all the hullaballoo."

***

The King of the Demons settled back, drawing up his pants as the door was opened abruptly by none other than Raphael. "Oh hello, Shurley." Crowley greeted, looking over with tired eyes, and labored breathing.

The Sophomore looked at Crowley, then Metatron. The Scribe wasn't curled in on himself, but rather laying on his back, staring at the ceiling as sweat rolled down his brow. "It's cool," Metatron breathed hard, "We're cool." A grin was already across the Scribe's features, but as he lolled his head over to face the Hall monitor, it was far more obvious. "Pshh, we're good Raph, what you here for?"

The hall monitor frowned, and looked between the two again, "So, I'm going to take that as Crowley wasn't beating you up?" He asked, looking for confirmation so he may leave to save them all.

"Not at all."

"Quite the contrary." Crowley hummed almost at the same time as Metatron.

Rapheal nodded and turned, "Carry on, I guess." He mumbled, leaving the room promptly.

***

Adam sighed, lazily propping his feet up on Michael's dashboard while he flipped the sun visor down.

"What's up, babe?" Michael asked, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel absentmindedly.

"I just have a headache and the stupid ass sun isn't helping," Adam growled.

"I have Tylenol in my backpack," Michael responded, waving Raphael over from the communal soup of high-schoolers waiting for their parents or older siblings to come pick them up.

"Yeah, but you also have condoms in your backpack, and that doesn't make me any more likely to use them," Adam said, chuckling at Michael's blush as Raphael clambered into the back seat.

"What's so funny?" Raphael asked, quirking an eyebrow as he relaxed into the leather.

"Nothing," Michael answered hastily, shaking his head slightly as he pulled out of the line of cars.

"I need to go to Kevin's," Raphael murmured after they were on the road, resting his hand on his thigh.

Michael popped his head up an inch and stared at Raphael through the rear-view for a moment, "Tran? As in the prophet?"

"Yeah. He needs help with LA," Raphael stated, deadpan.

"Isn't he, like, five?" Adam chimed in, turning his neck to look at the Sophomore.

"No, he's twelve. He just skipped a few grades," Raphael replied, biting at his lip.

"Sorry, big difference," Adam rolled his eyes and glanced at Michael, who had his attention placed firmly on the road.

***

Castiel hummed softly, pulling out his phone and scrolling through his messages from Samandriel. He let out a soft giggle at a particular gif of a cat jumping in and out of boxes. 

He heard the revving of the motorcycle before he saw the man, but he looked up just as the man spoke, "Hey, Kitten, what's got you so happy?" Crowley rasped, sat on top of his motorcycle, leather jacket on his back. Written in faded print on the back of the material was 'King of the Pussy Magnets.' Castiel had gotten used to the words as Crowley had been wearing the jacket since the beginning of Junior year, after the old King had moved on to college.

"Oh, nothing much," Castiel responded, a small smile on his face, "Just a silly video my brother sent me."

"Is that so?" Crowley inquired, "Which brother? I can't imagine it'd be Balthazar."

"It's Samandriel," Castiel answered quickly, pocketing his phone and making eye contact with Crowley. "What brings you here?"

"Well, I knew your boy-toy wouldn't be able to come pick you up, so I figured I would." A lazy grin split his face, and he had a slight quirk to his eyebrows, as though daring Castiel to turn him down.

"Hmm," Cas looked at Crowley thoughtfully, "I suppose it wouldn't harm anything."

A look of pure ecstasy shot through Crowley's face. He quickly sat up on the seat and gestured for Castiel to join him on the motorcycle."You won't regret this, angel." He revved up his motorcycle excitedly, scooting up enough so that Castiel would more than fit behind him.

Castiel awkwardly clambered onto the vehicle, swooping his trenchcoat off to one side in hopes of it surviving the motorcycle ride. After a moment of hesitation, Castiel looped his arms around Crowley's waist, leaning into the warmth of his body and resting his head firmly of the other man's shoulder. He thought fondly of Dean.

"So, where are we headed?" Castiel inquired, pulling closer towards Crowley to avoid the cold bite of the evening air.

"We're going to that frozen yogurt place down the road. Don't worry about it, pumpkin." Crowley replied, pulling into the street with his motorcycle, his eyes and attention now planted firmly on the road.

Castiel had nice memories of going to the shop as a smaller child with Crowley, and he had a good feeling about today.

It was a quaint, charming, not-super-mainstream, little corner of the world. It pleasantly reminded Castiel of long ago, during gorgeous, scorching summer days in tall grass that made you want to take your shoes off, in the midst of playing a long forgotten game of hide-and-seek. It was an odd sense of emotions that weren't easily evoked, but, even in the cooling autumn air, Castiel could close his eyes and picture it.

"Don't pass out on me there, darling." Crowley reminded in that deep, growling voice, startling the other from his good thoughts.

"I'm not," Castiel added matter-of-factly, then waited a good minute before asking, "Do you ever just feel good to exist?" Recently, Castiel had noticed the radiant, warm feeling had always been in his chest around Dean, and occasionally after one of Samandriel's favorite gifs. The comfortable feeling brought Castiel to feel as if all is well in the world.

Luckily, they had stopped at a red light behind a slow car, or perhaps one of Castiel's rare, unprompted emotional moments would have been lost to the harsh, unforgiving winds of the motorcycle. "Mmn," Crowley's voice rumbled thoughtfully, "Not a lot. But mostly when I'm with you."

Now, to anyone else, this would be a difficult decision, but Castiel just didn't have another frame of reference to picture Crowley in, aside from that small chubby kid that wanted to hold his hand in Kindergarten. Yeah, there were the terrible pick-up lines, and the flirty looks, but they never surpassed the innocent memories that Castiel shared with a small, angry British boy that didn't want to share his fire truck with anyone but the Novak boy.

The light turns green, and they are already on the street to the place, so Castiel takes that as his last chance and responds with a low murmur of acknowledgment.

Crowley pulled into the parking lot of the little shop easily, resting his motorcycle in one of the open slots. Castiel could feel Crowley tense as he went against every fiber of his being and pulled into a non-handicap parking spot.

"I mean this in the nicest way possible, poppet, but could you let go of my waist?" Crowley asked, turning his head to look at Castiel.

"Oh, of course," The other man responded, unattaching himself from Crowley, taking the moment to glance at his trench coat.

Crowley hopped off the motorcycle and offered his hand to Cas, supporting him as he made his way off the motorcycle.

Once Castiel was safely off the motorcycle, however, Crowley held onto his hand. Castiel didn't mind, though; he knew the man found refuge in the other's hand, and who was Castiel to take that away from him? But he also benefited from this arrangement, as Crowley gave off a strong aura that caused others to leave him alone. This meant that, contrary to the events of his normal outings, he could enjoy himself without getting hit on. He was in a relationship, but no one seemed to acknowledge Dean as quite intimidating enough to illicit complete avoidance without him opening his mouth.

As they walked into the shop, Crowley took pause, searching for something. After another second or two, Crowley's face flashed with a triumphant expression. His hand reappeared, now holding a leather wallet, thick with money the man had most likely bullied out of Freshmen and Sophomores. He hastily switched the wallet to his opposite hand and returned his grip back to Castiel's hand.

"I can pay, you know," Castiel mumbled, glancing up at Crowley. Though Castiel was still a few good inches shorter than Crowley at the moment, he would receive the growth spurt he'd been waiting for in due time.

"I know you can, lamb, but I'd be honored if I could pay for you," he said, massaging his fingers into Castiel's knuckles. 

"Okay, but, listen," Castiel compromised seriously. He tugged at Crowley's sleeve, effectively gaining his attention. "It can't be money you stole, okay?" He asked, making eye contact with the other man.

After a second of hesitation, Crowley gave in, "Fine," he heaved, pulling a twenty from his pocket and holding it between his pointer and middle fingers, "This is for you," he breathed, handing the money to Castiel, "Money earned from blood, sweat and tears. I have more where that came from, so don't fret if you use all of it."

Castiel nodded solemnly, feeling rather guilty for taking the money from Crowley.

"Listen," Crowley told him, cupping the other's cheek in his hand, "Don't feel bad, okay? I want to spend this money on you, love."

Castiel did genuinely feel bad for not reciprocating the other man's feelings. He'd known that Crowley had had a crush on him since... Kindergarten, was it? But he'd never felt anything similar for the man. Ever since he'd laid eyes on him, Castiel had known Dean was the one for him, but he'd only ever thought chastely of the Crowley, and nothing more. He felt bad about stringing him along like this, but Castiel had never promised Crowley anything more than friendship.

Castiel gave a resolute nod and stood up a bit taller, walking with the other man towards the cash register. "Hello..." Crowley squinted at the employee's nametag, "Amelia. We'll be just a moment," he tilted his head towards Castiel, "What would you like, my turtle dove?"

Castiel thinks for a moment, "Mmmm... Vanilla," He decides, watching as Amelia nods and taps on the screen of the register quickly, before she pulls out a cup from a bag next to her.

"How many ounces?" Amelia asks, bringing the cup over to the frozen yogurt dispenser. 

"Four," Castiel says, trying to do the measurements in his mind so that the treat wouldn't turn into soup before he returned to Dean's house.

"Wow, quite average of you, kitten. Nothing flashier? I'll pay for anything you'll try. And, besides, I know for a fact your boyfriend will eat the extra," Crowley purred.

Castiel nodded and changed his order to eight ounces. Crowley ordered his frozen yogurt and they sat down, the demon proudly splaying his leather jacket on the back of his chair.

There were a few minutes where they sat and ate, Castiel happily licking at his spoon while Crowley shoveled large spoonfuls into his mouth.

"Do you have any plans for the weekend, honeysop?" Crowley asked over his chocolate frozen yogurt.

"I have to work Saturday night and I have church earlier Sunday. But, otherwise, I'm pretty much free. Naomi has a test on Monday, though, so I'll have to help her study Sunday night," He hummed, picking at a particularly sturdy glob of paint on the table.

After Crowley had finished and Castiel was full, they stood and made their way to the parking lot.

***

Sam pulled the keys out of his pocket, sticking the one he needed into the doorknob's lock and turning it. He waited until he heard a soft click come from the mechanism, then swiftly pulled it open.

He felt Gabriel run from his side to the inside of the house eagerly and watched as he intercepted a ball of black, brown, and white fur midair.

"Riot!" He exclaimed, supporting the dog's weight for just long enough to find shelter on the couch. He quickly toppled onto it and spread his arms, letting Riot climb out of his embrace and watching as he instead opted to sit in the middle of the piece of furniture. He laid his head on Gabriel's lap, giving him an expectant look.

"Oh, don't give me that face. I'll feed ya, all right?" Gabe said, cupping the dog's fur in his hand.

"Dude," Sam said, pushing himself away from his spot in the doorframe. "Don't worry about it, I can feed him."

Gabe quirked an eyebrow and glanced between the two, nodding intensely as he stared into Riot's eyes. "You're right, boy. I've gotta follow him into the kitchen to make sure he gets the good dog food," He said, a serious look on his face.

He stood up and walked with Sam into the kitchen, and grabbed a sucker from one of the bags Sammy kept lying around for him. Afterward, Gabe hoisted himself onto one of the counters and pulled his phone out, softly kicking his legs back and forth.

Sam looked into the pantry and pulled out the bag, grabbing the food bowl and getting ready to pour in the food.

"No! Sammy, that's the shit food." Gabriel interrupted, jumping up from his spot to look in the pantry. 

Sam watched with an amused smile as Gabe pulled a bag hidden deep in the pantry out. "There we go. Here's the good kush," He poured some of the contents of the bag into the bowl gripped in Sam's hands.

"Riot! Your gourmet meal is served!" Gabe called, grinning as Riot ran eagerly into the room and began eating quickly out of the bowl.

"Great. We have about an hour of video games, then, before Dean and Cas get here and want to watch a movie," Sam said, pulling the remotes out from a drawer and handing one to Gabe.

***

"Dean! I'm home!" Cas shouted as he strolled through the front door. The keys in his hand jingled softly as he stuffed them into his pocket.

He grinned as he glanced into the living room, watching Sam and Gabriel on the couch. Sam laid asleep, a hand looped around his boyfriend's waist that enabled the smaller man to lean into his warmth as much as he desired. Though Gabe was still awake, he looked perfectly content with lying still on Sam's shoulder, throwing handfuls of popcorn into his mouth from the bowl nestled between his thighs. Next to them sat Dean, lounging comfortably on the armrest.

Once Dean saw Cas, he gave a lopsided grin and stood up, walking to the other man and kissing him on the forehead before grabbing his hand. Cas inhaled happily, so glad to recognize the smell of _Dean._ He was incapable of describing the exact aroma of Dean, but it was perfect. It was more soothing than everything else in the world combined.

"We left you some food in the fridge," Dean mentioned, opening the refrigerator door and pulling out a bag of KFC, moving to hand it to Castiel before noticing the cup of frozen yogurt in his hand. "Where'd you get that from? Your sugar daddy, Crowley?" Dean teased, cocking an eyebrow.

"He's my friend, nothing more," Castiel stated firmly. "Do you want the rest now, or later?"

"I'll take it now," he responded, switching the bag for the cup.

***

Dean smiled at the scene splayed out in front of him. Sam and Gabe laid on the ground in front of him and Cas, spooning slightly. And, by spooning, Dean more meant that Sam had one leg on Gabe's thigh, and an arm strewn protectively across his waist. Dean was still awake, but Castiel, on the other hand, was fast asleep, snuggled up into Dean's warmth and head placed firmly in the crook of Dean's neck. Hell, even Adam had come out of his room for the night. He sat in the love seat adjacent to the couch and watched the movie with apt attention. It was pretty awesome, apart from Adam's laughs every time one on the characters was murdered by the villain.

Dean had long since gotten used to this, and he would fight anyone who tried to take it from him.

***

Crowley had a lot on his plate, all the time. Ever since Lucifer graduated, and he'd been given the 'throne' by Lucifer himself, Crowley had a lot going on. Like keeping the Demons from making stupid deals, making bad bullying choices, like Dean Winchester, keeping their alcohol/drug runs sparse, and relatively untraceable, or, the most unforgivable, hurting Castiel.

Castiel is the love of Crowley's miserable, unbearable, shitty, half-assed existence. Ever since he'd been birthed into this awful world from between the legs of a sixteen-year-old woman that never closed them, Crowley, or underwise known as Fergus, lived a life of permanent self-hate, and abuse from an almost constantly drunk, or absent mother. His introduction into Kindergarten was a nightmare and a blessing. Fergus didn't talk, he knew vaguely how, but he refused to talk to anyone besides for the sweet Novak, Castiel, who let Fergus grab his hand, and blabber almost incohesive sentences that the other boy translated.

Crowley and Castiel's hand holding was rather typical even in high school, and it still brought the Demon King immense tranquility.

But now, there was all too much to let his mind ponder on. He hated everything, and wanted time to stop, and let him live out his anger on the subject that the most gorgeous man he'd ever laid eyes on wouldn't ever love him half as much as he loved that dammed Winchester. It was pitiful. Crowley could have just about _anyone_ else, and he wanted the untouchable.

What a fucking stupid idiot.

So, he slammed his fist on his desk, and pushed all his homework, folders, planners, and notebooks to the mildly clean, carpeted floor of his room. For good measure, he kicked over his chair. It didn't accomplish anything that would change the world, and it certainly didn't make Castiel love him, but, it did make the King feel better, albeit for a moment. At least until his wretched mother piped up from down the hall.

"Fergus! What's all that vulgar racket?"

The teen hissed under his breath, and shouted back, "NOTHING!"

"I swear, Fergus, if I come in there, and you've wrecked something."

"It's nothing!" He shouted back, and god, he was so infuriated. He wanted to ruin something, hurt someone, break a bone, whether it's his or someone else's. He didn't really know which one, but he knew none of them were going to happen. Not tonight at least. Tomorrow he'd find someone to beat up, or make something shatter into millions of irreparable pieces. That'll make him feel better.

"Fergus!" That broke Crowley from his thoughts immediately, and, on top of that, he heard his mother's door open. He could feel anger and resentment towards his mother when he wasn't face-to-face with her, but, even though he'd grown taller than her now, Crowley instantly felt small and helpless when she confronted him.

"I'm picking it up! Nothing broke!" Crowley voice cracked and trembled as he glanced out the door frame. Seeing as he hadn't ever had a door in its place, he didn't have a chance to lock it, or even hear her coming. So, Crowley scrambled to pick up the papers, and notebooks, organizing them hastily on his desk before picking back up the chair, and sitting down, back to the door, hanging his head low, and looking at his feet. It's all picked up. Deep breath.

There was mild movement from his mother's room, but, that was it, and relief flooded over Crowley. His adrenaline was burning hot, but thank God. She must have been too tired, or too drunk to yell anymore, which was wonderful, seeing as Crowley still had some things to do tonight, and he'd rather not be unconscious. So, for his own safety, he just didn't let his mind wander to Castiel. But, that was easier said than done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, Snow here again! Just wanted to point a few things out real quick. First off, Chuck's the principal; not God or anything. But, prophets are kinda just office helpers and such. They can write any passes they want for anyone, though, and get AP points for it, so it's win-win. Kevin's the current one. Also, the demons are a gang. They go by the Pussy Magnets as well as the demons. Crowley is the current King of the demons/Pussy Magnets. Feel free to point out any grammar errors or if y'all have any non-spoiler related questions point 'em down in the comments and we'll try to respond. I'm the primary beta reader as well as one of the authors, so some stuff will slip under my nose. Also, a lot of this on my part was written at, like, late o'clock, so, yeah. We'll try to put up some more chapters soon, cuz there's one we want to put up on a certain day, but idk. Thank you so much for reading, though!  
> -Snow
> 
> Edit: Hey, so, some bits still had editor notes, I cleaned those right up, but, we published this minutes before the fic expired, so, please excuse any previous mistakes. We apologize greatly.  
> Edit 2: Many parts were out of order, but don't worry, I noticed, and cleaned them up. No longer shall Raphael randomly reappear in the school, and no longer shall Castiel and Crowley's outing last too long that you quite honestly forget that school was still getting out. : )  
> -Mosquito~


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The yearly Halloween party ensues!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We edited, and added this super late, so a part or two might be a bit wonky. : )  
> Also, this is terribly, terribly nsfw, so, you are warned. But, both boys are 18+, so, no worries.  
> -Mosquito~

Jack knocked on Kevin's door in his Anakin Skywalker costume. As his dad pulled out of Kevin's drive-way, Jack waved brightly, more than aware that he wouldn't see his dad for a handful of hours. Jack had until about 9; he was a big kid. Also because he wasn't sure how childish it would seem to Kevin.

The door opens, and a very tired Kevin is standing there dressed as Padmé Amidala, in her white jumpsuit, with a bowl of candy on his hip, grabbing a handful before realizing, "Oh, hi Jack."

"Hey, Kevin! Thanks for coming with me, I don't have any other friends to go with." Jack hummed cheerfully, holding his pumpkin-shaped pail in one hand, a backpack settled lightly on his back. "My dad said to bring extra bags in case we get a lot of candy!"

"You wouldn't imagine how many toddlers have come by," Kevin smiled lightly, "Just a minute," He comments, and gently shuts the door.

Jack waits at the door, flicking on and off his lightsaber as he hums, and looks around at the few trick-or-treaters on the streets, mostly like Kevin said, were toddlers with their parents guiding them gently. The door opening slightly startled Jack before Kevin walks out, shutting the door behind him. "Cool, I was staying up anyways," Kevin says, still smiling a little bit. It made Jack's heart warm. "Do you have a plan, or are we doing this however we want?"

"I figured just, hit every house we can, and we'll be back here before 9," Jack chuckles, watching Kevin's face.

"You get to stay out until 9?" The look on Kevin's face was priceless.

"Why? Don't you?" Jack asked as they made their way across the street.

"No. My mom says that all the teenagers are out at 8," There's mild complaint in Kevin's voice.

"Well, I brought my 3DS, so we can play New Super Mario Bro, or we can battle! I got a new pokemon team I think I'll beat you with this time!" Jack chimed brightly, and Kevin lightened up.

"Okay, that's cool."

***

Planning was something Crowley liked to do, really and truly. He didn't seem the type, but who, besides nerdy, glasses-wearing, math majors, or stuck up literature protégé, seemed the type? He enjoyed sitting down for a few hours, and adding to the plan until it got bigger, and more fantastical the longer he worked on it. That was the case with the Halloween party.

Halloween had always been a Demon-run affair. It was, now, hosted at the 'King of the Demons' house, and it had always been decked out with alcohol and drugs. It was a huge event now, as practically the entire school was invited to attend. When Lucifer first had started the event, it was elite and minimal. At least that's what Crowley had heard. By the time he got into high school, Lucifer's third year, it was already a big event. It was the 'Demons', and mostly whoever Lucifer had the most interest in, which consisted chiefly of the entirety of all male sports teams. To be honest, Crowley liked the bigger scale of things nowadays, mostly because it meant he could invite Castiel without much struggle.

So, this year, just like the year before, it was Crowley's job to set up the party. Personally, he'd thought that he'd really outdone himself. He had carved about 5 different jack-o'-lanterns, which, while not hellish-realm of terrifying, really kept everyone in the Halloween spirit. He'd also made several arrangements of different candies, and snacks, provided these teens weren't going to straight up drink like it the end of the world. Crowley would have put up a name banner, but none of them really qualified, and last time one of the older demons just ripped it down immediately. The lights were going to be mostly off, with the exception of old strung up Christmas lights that Crowley had meticulously replaced each and every one of with the bright white LEDs for weak alternating green and purple lights. Crowley had also taken time from studying for his literature test to instead put up fake cobwebs, felt bats, little cut-out witches, and pumpkin pompoms half a week in advance.

His mother had given him the oddest looks as he was setting up a day shy of Halloween. She'd called him his terrible birth name, and told him something about how glad she was that he could stay home on his own now so that she didn't have to lock him up in an incredibly shitty motel. He knew now what she did every Halloween, and he didn't like it, but there was no way of stopping her, after all, she'd had him too young, and she'd missed out on her last years of almost-adult-but-not-quite-yet years. He was certainly very happy with being gay. No accidental pregnancy to worry about.

So, now, just an hour before the party began, Crowley had dolled himself up as a vampire, pale makeup, fake fangs, silk red cape, black lipstick, and all. After all, what's a Halloween party if the host isn't dressed up, too?

***

Meg was casually cracking open a few locks, slipping a few fake notes into people's lockers. "One second, Anthony!" Meg screamed halfway across the hall, towards one of her colleagues.

"Ok, but I won't stay young foreves." Anthony murmured idly as the woman, part of Crowley's 'legion,' ambled over, enraptured by the money she'd stolen from her adventures in locker-looting.

"'Bout 'fidy'" Meg conquers the slang world, so she meant 'About fifty.' But Anthony had grown accustomed to this, and continued to listen in, "Bucks." She added for good measure.

"Unless you have enough of those Abrahams to get us out of this damn debt," Anthony's words sounded as insensitive as an incredibly detached 18-year-old typically does.

Meg looked around quickly, hearing the sharp click-clacking of heels on tile.

Some older girls Meg knew personally from a few chats. It was umm... Ruby and... UGH, Naomi, Meg's ex-girl. As they strutted across the halls, currently dating, happy, tall and proud. They giggled in unison, and damn it all.

There had been rumors, that Meg may have initiated, about her and Anthony. Maybe that they'd been dating, and would have a date at the sushi bar. So, perhaps, that's what the girls were laughing about. She didn't quite care, she had a job to do right now.

***

Charlie couldn't help herself. She was far too curious for her own good. After 2 years of ignoring the Halloween tradition, she managed to hype herself up enough to attend, and boy, was it a newsflash.

By the time she had arrived, the party was in its early life. Most people had gotten there, the radio was spewing popular songs by popular artists, and the snack trays were still relatively stocked. Score.

So, Charlie integrated herself with the mass of people who were doing a weird in-between of dancing and grinding, almost as if they were unsure, which was a flat out lie. You either commit to grinding, or pretend like you don't want to grind, there's no middle ground. Nonetheless, Charlie made her way to the snack section, and picked up a few wrapped candies, pocketing the non-chocolates for later consumption. For now, she spotted a cute girl across the dance space, and maybe she wanted to try her sober luck.

***

Alcohol and drugs were something that, after some bribing, were easily obtained, and highly sought after by high school-aged teens that maybe didn't really understand that drunk consent, is not in fact consent. But, that's what Crowley was here for, at least after Lucifer left. Ruining other people's lives, breaking up relationships, without ever getting himself involved, after all, alcohol just strengthens your current desire. And that's exactly how The Leader of the Demons realized he was astonishingly lonely.

"C'mon, Pet!" Crowley's gruff voice betrayed him, making the supposed-to-be flirty comment sound much more like a pissy command. Castiel didn't much appreciate it, giving the tipsy teenager a disappointed, yet concerned, look as Dean slipped an arm protectively around his boyfriend and lead him, to the rest of the loud party, away from Crowley. Well fuck, time to go intentionally barge in on some people having sex, so he can maybe feel better-

"Where you goin' little man?" An all too familiar voice sang, and even being partially out of it, Crowley recognized the previous Leader of Demons' voice from behind him. "Haven't seen you in a while, babycakes. How're the kids?"

Crowley felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up as a warm body pressed up against his back, breathing down his neck in a comfortably sensual way as arms looped around his waist. Oh... How had he forgotten the joy of his Leader's presence? "Ahh," Crowley's voice was dark, thick, and almost tangible as he smirked drunkenly, "I've missed you dearly, Cinnamon." It had always been Crowley's favored term for his King.

Maybe the intoxication was getting the best of him, but he swore on his life that Lucifer had gotten hotter. Perhaps his hazy mind was just trying to compensate for his misfortune while trying to hit on Castiel, but right now, Lucifer was looking to be his best choice. "Heard that you think of me sometimes," The oldest Shurley brother whispered, barely loud enough to be heard over some popular song on the stereo speakers that belted out clearly in the living room to dozens of plastered teens. "Mostly at night... in bed." Luci's humming voice disrupts whatever Crowley may have been thinking about. Damn him.

"Mmmnn, no." The teen lied, laying his head back before realizing exactly how tall his King had gotten, seeing as now Crowley's head rested just below the other's chin.

"Lying to the King of Lies?" Lucifer's tone was turning into that _good_ tone. The kind that Castiel would never supply him with. The kind that made him feel like he might get something out of this interaction. "Puppy, I thought you knew better?"

That was the point of no return. The Senior shuttered against the other, "Cinnamon, you know what you do to me." He mumbled, quite sure that Lucifer knew exactly, which excited him.

Crowley, despite what some thought, wasn't an actual whore. Yes, he thrived for the love, and affection of others, like kisses, pet names, or general appreciation, but, didn't everyone? Yet Lucifer, somehow, made him feel like a slut for his attention. "What's wrong, Puppy? Scared that all these people will see us?" The older man gently ran his fingers down Crowley's sides until they rested at the band of his pants, slipping a finger or two past to tickle at bare skin.

"Mmn, I'd prefer it. Seeing the looks on their faces when they realize you take," Crowley grumbled cheerily, kind of like he'd found his sentence fairly funny, "You'd be _ruined_." Okay, maybe Crowley had gotten into his King's pants before, and maybe he really wanted to see Luci in his bed again, but that's not being a whore. It's not like he's actively fucking other people. At least not with the intention of leading them on, or making them believe he's their significate other.

Lucifer chuckled, and Crowley felt his knees go weak, "Puberty's finished with you, huh?" He said, almost like he'd just noticed. It was far more likely, however, that the King had found the previous conversation more pressing, and this was just a last minute addition, an afterthought if you would. "You turned out pretty well." And with that, the eldest Shurley brother began to lay kisses along Crowley's lightly makeup dusted neck, and the conversation was meant to be forgotten, which it promptly was.

"Counter, or bed?" Crowley asked as his hand cradled Luci's head, "Ah- Ah! Lucifer!" Crowley snapped, grabbing Luci's hair to tear him sharply away from his neck. The clatter of something, probably a crown, fell from his head, "The hickey rule," Crowley growled, picking up on the soft moan from Luci. Damn, he'd forgotten that the guy got his freak on from being controlled, and yelled at. Another wonderful thing about him.

"Kitchen counter, or bed?" Crowley made his voice serious, regardless of the several cups of alcohol in him.

"Here, somewhere," Lucifer looked around briefly, "Anywhere." Well, counter it was.

Crowley pushed Lucifer up against the island, kissing the man eagerly. There were so many things happening, like feeling Luci's split tongue and it's stud piercing against his very normal tongue. Black lips stained pretty pink ones, and the young man smiled. Crowley could also taste something he didn't quite have the current capacity to recall, but it was the last thing on his mind. Fuck, he'd missed this. He missed all of this and all of what was going to happen. So, he began instantly pulling down the King's sweatpants, "I would suck you off, Cinnamon, I would, but not now," Crowley mumbled, eyes locking with his forgotten red Solo cup, which he immediately grabbed, and threw back, shaking off the taste before locking lips with Lucifer as he felt the slight pleasant burn in his throat.

Luci had always kissed well, and it was quite addicting to be honest, feeling all the need behind it, but what was more addicting was after Crowley unbuttoned his own pants. Luci moaned quietly, now turned around so that he was properly bent over the counter. "One... two... three." Crowley thrusted in, resulting in a long groan of satisfaction from Lucifer.

"If you weren't so drunk, I'd rock your world, Puppy." Luci managed as Crowley pulled back mildly before slamming back in.

"Don't bloody talk," One of Crowley's hands is firmly grasping the King's hair, allowing for Crowley to easily maneuver his hook-up's head until his cheek rested on the countertop under his oddly strong grip.

"Ooh, Crowley, I like drunk you, very demanding." Lucifer moaned, letting his body rock with Crowley's, but damn was there going to be bruises tomorrow.

"I said DON'T-"

"Crowley, I can't find Dean, have you seen-" Castiel stopped, tilting his head, and seemed to take several moments to buffer, and understand what he was looking at. When it did click, his eyes were wide. He didn't want to keep staring, but like a car crash, he for some reason kept watching.

Crowley's cloudy mind couldn't figure out why Castiel was blushing so red, "Dean? Uhh, no?"

"Get lost, Novak." Luci hissed half-heartedly, grinding back on Crowley, his head free now, "C'mon Daddy, fuck me."

OH! It was _the_ word. That godforsaken word that Luci fell back into when he was feeling very, very safe, and turned on, which was sweet in its own way. It seemed, though, that the King hadn't lost his charm, and knew Castiel's demeanor too well. The second the sentence left his mouth, Castiel remembered how to mind his own business. Not like Crowley objected to Cas watching, but Lucifer seemed to find it more enjoyable this way. "Daddy, please."

"That's a real turn off, Cinnamon." Crowley growled lowly, reminding Lucifer that he wasn't the boss right now.

"I'm sorry, Master." The words were all mumbled to various degrees, but Crowley rewarded the behavior with the return of his thrusts.

Luci got progressively whinier, barely attempting to meet Crowley's thrusts anymore, instead letting the younger man hit his sweet spot repetitively. "You there, Cinnamon?" Crowley asked, genuinely worried for a second.

"Yeah, yeah," Luci grumbled, his voice dripping with concentration, but slowly he began to grind back. "Even when you're completely wasted, you still do me best, Sugar." Lucifer didn't like to encourage much, but every once in a while, Crowley deserved a pick-me-up. "Right there- Yes~" Crowley smiled to himself, finding the perfect place as he watched Luci's fingers curl into fists, and the older boy almost slam his head into the counter, "Ohh, good boy~ Fuck me~" Lucifer's voice moaned before hissing, his legs beginning to shake.

Crowley knew better, and gently wrapped an arm around the other man's waist. With a few final thrusts in, Lucifer came, panting loudly. Crowley came inside the other man before seeming to realize, and swiftly pulled out with a quiet, "Shit, sorry."

Lucifer easily forgave him with a stupid grin, lying placidly on the counter. "I... Need to clean up." Luci wiped sweat from his forehead lazily, "Crow, baby, could you take me to the bathroom?" His voice was soft, and he looked over with a pleasant expression painted on his face.

"Sure, love," Crowley purred, having already fixed himself up, he wiggling up Lucifer's sweatpants loosely to hide anything that Crowley quite frankly didn't want the world seeing. He then gently helped Luci up, and over his shoulder, letting the man lean against him as they walked down to the bathroom.

At Luci's request, Crowley left his side to return to normal party affairs as if nothing happened, but quite a bit cheerier.

***

Gabriel smiled as he locked his eyes on the treat spread across the room. He grabbed one of Sam's arms and ran toward the table.

He immediately stuck his arm elbow deep into a bowl of candy, and threw a handful of it into his mouth.

"God, how are you so tiny when you eat all that junk?" Sammy commented distractedly, glancing up from his phone at his boyfriend.

"How the fuck are you so tall and muscular when you only eat salad?" Gabriel countered around a mouthful of sweets.

He quickly scanned the table for something else to gnaw on, and eventually settled on a cupcake covered in chocolate icing with Hershey's kisses on top. "Holy fuck, Sam. I'm sorry but I have to leave you. I've found the new love of my life, and I orgasmed without them even touching me." Gabe moaned, picking up the cupcake and seductively peeling the wrapper off.

"You're leaving me for literal diabetes?" Sam snorted, watching as Gabriel lowered the dessert into his mouth.

"It's what's on the inside that- oh fuck," Gabe made a strangled choking noise and withdrew the cupcake from his mouth and turned to Sam.

As Sam opened his mouth to say something, Gabe shoved the food into it and pulled a napkin to his iips, spitting out the liquefied cupcake.

Gabe's face lightened slightly, however, when he saw Sam register the same reaction of disgust he'd had seconds earlier.

"I hate to say it, but this shit is worse than Raph's cooking," He hissed, balling the napkin up and throwing it into the trash.

"Your brother is taking Advanced Food Science. I hope he's better than this," Sam replied, a grimace on his face while he moved to dump the cupcake.

"I guess. Now, wanna make out a little?" Gabriel wiggled his eyebrows, lacing his fingers at the base of Sam's neck and leaning the taller's head down to meet his lips.

***

Jack and Kevin walked in the front door at 8pm. Kevin flopped onto the living room couch as Jack settled lightly beside him. "So, you got like, a toothbrush, too, right?" Kevin asked, opening his bag to glance briefly.

"Yeah, and I got like... chalk? Blackboard chalk." Jack eyed the white stick of condensed dust. "That's cool I guess."

Kevin chuckled, "Okay, what about that pokemon battle?"

Jack squeaked cheerfully, forgetting his candy as he pulled his 3DS from his backpack.

***

As the clock ticked past 4am, the last few demons were making their way out, grabbing toilet paper and eggs for their next activity of TP-ing some of the Teacher's houses, along with probably the Prophet's. They asked Crowley to join them, but he declined, making up some excuse that his mother would be home soon. It was obviously a lie, but no one was going to force him to come along.

The soon-to-be-ex-king sat down on the porch stairs, pulling out a pack of cigarettes, and a lighter. He lit one with minimal struggle, and took a long drag, popping the pack into his back pocket before resting his forearms on his knees. Thank God everyone had left, finally, he could relax-

"Hey, Puppy," Lucifer sang, standing next to the smaller man, letting Crowley get a good look at his shoes, or lack thereof. The man's black nail polish was thoroughly gone, except for the small flecks still decorating his short toenails. This was opposed to the freshly painted black nails on Lucifer's fingers.

Crowley exhaled the smoke, watching it mingle with the cold night air, disappearing into the dark, "Staying?" He asked, genuinely wanting the man to, he hated the silence, he'd never liked the sounds of living in the suburbs. He kind of wanted to live on a busy off-the-main-road street, where cars went by late at night, not quite sure where they were headed, but knowing damn well they were over the speed limit. Lucifer's house was a good example. He was sure he'd sleep there almost half as much as his 'home' by now.

"Mmn, maybe. Why? You miss your fuck buddy?" Lucifer was probably smirking. Scratch that, he could hear the smirk, "You miss how I ride your dick, don't you?" Crowley didn't answer, taking a drag off his cigarette instead, keeping his eyes on the yard as he gently exhaled, "Don't worry, Puppy, I'll stay and give you something to cry about."

With that, Lucifer sat beside him, a bottle of vodka in one hand, and a blunt in the other, "I figured you had a lighter on you." Lucifer hummed, displaying his drug of choice.

Crowley stuck the cigarette in his mouth as he grabbed his lighter with his right hand, promptly blowing his breath of smoke in the King's face at the next opportunity, "How about you stop with the 'Puppy' talk." Crowley grumbled, clicking the lid open and shut absentmindedly. Luci right deserved a face full of smoke for interrupting his alone time.

Lucifer blinked as reflex, "But, you're still so little-" He began.

"When you start doing the dicking, you can call me 'Puppy' again." Crowley decided, "For now, and if you want your weed, you call me Master."

"How about..." Lucifer set down his alcohol, and climbed over to straddle Crowley's hips, knees on the cold cement stairs, blunt between his fingers idly. Luci kissed the smaller man hard, pressing their faces together with a hand to the back of Crowley's head.

Unfortunately for the King, Crowley had him figured out, at least if the hot burning on Luci's bicep had anything to say about it, "What the fuck, babe!" Lucifer didn't use babe for Crowley, unless he was pissed, which he rightfully was. "Did you burn me?" The other's voice was on the edge of disbelief.

But, Crowley didn't say anything for a moment. He could feel an ache where Luci had haphazardly crashed their teeth together. He could also still feel that jumpy, anxious feeling of needing another cigarette.

Yet, Crowley's thoughts were interrupted by a whisper from Luci, however, it wasn't directed towards him, "Fuck, now I'm turned on." 

"Your libido is bloody insane," Crowley hissed as Lucifer leaned fully on him, almost toppling them while trying to get friction. "At least let me finish this, or you're going to have much less fun." The younger man growled.

"Fine."

"You have to get up." The smaller man said in a slightly aggravated tone.

Lucifer rolled his eyes before giving a lazy grin, "You gonna make me, big boy~?"

"Cinnamon, I swear to God if you force me to push you off, you're going to get hurt." Crowley warned, but Lucifer didn't heed him, instead opting to kiss his neck. It was nice, but, the younger man wouldn't tolerate Lucifer thinking he was above punishment. So, with some struggle, he shoved the King onto the grass after the stairs, and hastily straddled the cock slut's waist in return.

"Not fai-" Crowley grabbed Lucifer's arm, and put out the remainder of his first cigarette on the sensitive skin on Luci's inner wrist. "Shit," The King's fingers tightened into a fist, and he moaned pitifully, "You're the only one who does me justice, Master."

"Needy bitch aren't you?" Crowley commented with a sly smile, leaning back to nab his lighter, then moved his silky cape to the side and grabbed a cigarette from his back pocket.

He lit it, and heard the King whimper under him, "You know my sex drive is a million times what it should be, asshole," barely loud enough for Crowley.

"I'm not fucking you in the garden." He said before taking a long drag from his cigarette.

He exhaled loudly with his eyes closed, letting the silver smoke pour from his mouth. It would have been nice if not for the rustle and grinding against him. "Lucifer Nick Shurley." Crowley's growled out at an octave unknown to man. The grinding ceased, but suddenly Crowley had both of Luci's hands with a death grip on his thighs.

"Fuck," Luci whined, "Master..."

"God sake's," Crowley gave up, and adjusted his posture, "Fine, what are you feeling? Want me to-"

"Oh, God, anything," Lucifer hissed, letting the other unbutton his jeans, cigarette safely in Crowley's mouth.

"This once, Cinnamon," The younger man remarked, blowing the cigarette smoke out the side of his mouth as he pushed Lucifer's sweatpants down for the second time tonight.

"Oh, HELL!" Lucifer howled as Crowley took him in his mouth, "FUCKING- Crowley, ba-baby doll, what the f-fuck???" Lucifer moaned, and arched his back, which Crowley didn't like, but accepted. "I-I-I- Ohhh," Lucifer shut his eyes, and suddenly there was a hand tight in Crowley's hair, attempting to force his head down longer as his body trembled wildly.

Crowley pulled back after Lucifer seemed to rest peacefully in the grass, soft breaths whisked from his mouth as the cool wind picked up. The younger man wiped his face off with the back of his sleeve. "H-how?" Luci asked quietly, almost a whisper.

"Practice." Crowley remarks after another drag from his cigarette. He grabbed the discarded blunt from the ground, and stood up. "I'm locking up, and going to sleep. Join me if you wish." Crowley had given Lucifer a key a long time ago, and if the other man still had it, he'd be in luck.

But with that, Fergus 'Crowley' MacLeod, the soon-to-be-ex-King of the Demons, left Lucifer Shurley in the garden, and ended up locking only the front door.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is back to school after the Halloween party! But, Crowley's having a rough time with Lucifer joining them at school again, seeing as the King will take his rightful place, and Crowley will fall back into obscurity.
> 
> Meg is frustrated, and Kevin gets sick during 6th period, accompanied by Raphael. Kevin and Jack get some bonding time later and after the school day comes to an end, Crowley asks Castiel to come on a fun outing so he can relax.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a teeny, tiny bit where Naomi and Ruby are mentioned, along with Abbadon, but it wasn't anyone important, so they aren't in the summary. There's also a mention of Castiel's home life with Naomi and Samandriel, his siblings.
> 
> Trigger warnings:
> 
> Quite Crowley-centric with Meg and Kevin sprinkled in  
> Self-doubt and suicidal thoughts in his 1st paragraph  
> Lucifer's Daddy kink is mentioned low-key during the shopping portion.  
> Mostly just self-hate from Crowley until he gets to hang out with Castiel  
> Crowley masturbating midway through the IHOP scene.  
> -Mosquito~
> 
> Uh, this one's kinda a long one, so be ready. :)  
> -Snow

Meg was at the school's cafe, the only good part about this damn place. But, nothing much better was at home... Only a person that hated and criticized her. Everything she did, everywhere she went: she wasn't safe. All the demon wanted anymore was somebody to hold again. Well, for now, to substitute for the tears that were close to roll down her perfect blush, was a nice, cold triple mocha. 

As she swallowed the delicious chocolate drink, Meg took out her phone. 'Oh', She silently mouthed to herself, once she noticed the piling texts from Anthony like: 'Are you at the door?', 'Meg?', 'should I open the door?' and, lastly, 'MEG, STOP NOW, OR ELSE'. She wasn't worried; Anthony always got out of these situations.

"Meg?" Said a familiar male voice, which sounded a bit sour.

"Dick," Meg was going to continue, until-

"Mr. Roman to you," He grumbled. "Anyways, shouldn't you be... Well, somewhere?" He sighed.

She let out a yawn, "What time is it?"

"It's only 11:00." He answered, checking his analog wristwatch.

"Oh, I thought it, assuming we're talking about school?" She smirked devilishly, still on her phone. "It's booooring!" She huffed, wandered away, middle finger pointed at Mr. Roman.

"Detention, lunch detention." The teacher called after her.

Too bad, so sad. She accidentally forgot what he said. So, she went on her way, painting her nails. Probably bright yellow, because if you're gonna stick out, she thought, _you're gonna stick out like a devil's tail_.

***

Crowley hung out by the parking lot while he smoked during lunch. It was away from the wretched giggling of his ex-legion, and far out of sight from Castiel, who had told him several times that he was 'worried' for his health because of his smoking. Crowley didn't believe that. Or that anyone could honestly care for him further than any superficial reasons. His own mother had told him to off himself 8 billion times by now, so why not try to?

"Hey, hot stuff!" Lucifer hollered from the school's main entrance, jogging over to the other man. "Planning on riding-"

Crowley dragged Luci into a half-assed, indigent, smoke-filled kiss, by his hair. It was quick, abrupt, then over. The man didn't say anything afterward, and took a heavy drag, blowing the smoke out hastily. "Tell me, for once, you're not just here for some quick thing, then you're back to your other activities that I'm not supposed to know about," Crowley grumbled. He just wanted someone to say something pleasant in his general direction today. He felt like just skipping, and disappearing into the woods so he could sob like a little bitch to himself, and maybe pass out for a few hours before being obligated to return to normal affairs.

"What? C'mon, Crowley, I'm not just a prostitute!" Lucifer gave him a pout, and used his baby tone, "I want to ride your bike."

"Wow, not a great disguise, Cinnamon," Crowley groaned, disappointed in the other, favoring another draw from his cigarette as opposed to keeping eye contact with the older man any longer.

"Jesus, not you!" Lucifer barked out a laugh, frankly scaring Crowley from his depressed daze of staring out at the cars, "Your motorcycle! I want you to drive me somewhere!" He was still laughing, and then gave Crowley's cheek a well-meant kiss. "You're not feeling great, are you?"

When Lucifer's in the right kind of mood, he's really a decent guy, and remembers things Crowley said years ago in a drunken confession. "Is it your mom? She's a no-good whore and a half. Don't listen to her, honey." With that, Lucifer gave him a gentle hug, rubbing soothing circles on Crowley's back.

The tears tried to well up, but Crowley willed them away, "It doesn't matter. You want to ride? Let's ride." He said, pulled away from Lucifer.

Crowley slipped his hand into the pocket of his old leather jacket that, alternatively, now read 'Pussy Magnet' on the back, opposed to Lucifer's, that proudly displayed 'King of the Pussy Magnets' in faded lettering. The keychain rattled cheerily as Crowley grasped them, flipping through the various keys: One was his house key, numerous were 'lost' janitor's keys, and others were friends' house keys. The last one was coupled with a dorky skull charm. He took that one in hand, and moseyed over to his motorcycle, finishing up his cigarette. He promptly discarded it onto the asphalt and put it out with the heel of his shoe.

He saddles up on the sleek beast of a machine, "Got any preference where we go?"

Crowley's British accent had decayed over his decade or so in the states, and the remainder of it was becoming more and more noticeable at unique words or phrases that he hadn't heard someone say. Like 'bollocks'. Lucifer honestly regretted ever making fun of the guy when he was younger, seeing as Crowley still occasionally brought out his deep-rooted dialect when he was with Castiel.

"You know where no one will bother us? The graveyard." Lucifer purred, joining Crowley on his ride. The older man settled close enough that Crowley couldn't tell their leather apart, but he could hear the other exhale contently through his nose.

Crowley hummed thoughtfully. He turned on the ignition and let the engine whir pleasantly to life, "Works for me."

***

Maybe Naomi was a _bit_ head over heels in love as she happily joined her girlfriend, among the other demons who congregated on the concrete of the outside cafeteria. She was rocking As straighter than herself, and would categorically classify as an angel, the high honor kids. She was supposed to hang with the prophet, and study late into the night over skype, or something alike, with people who cared more about grades than their looks. She was supposed to be like her brother, the one who was planning on going to college.

Instead, Naomi gave her girlfriend, Ruby, bunny kisses amongst the hooting and hollering of some younger demons who threw around a frisbee. Until Abbadon's clicking of heels inturupted the fun.

"Where's Crowley?"

***

Lucifer had convinced Crowley to stop by a gas station to grab some beer, and it was honestly a good decision. 

Crowley let the other man lay his head in his lap, gently stroking the dirty blond hair. "Do you still have a thing for Cas, or is that totally old news?" Lucifer mumbled, eyeing the bottle in his hand, as if maybe that would add more alcohol to the half-empty bottle.

"Don't ask questions you know the answer to," Crowley grumbled, returning to that dark, thick, molasses sweet, accented voice that Luci candidly loved.

He could think of lots of things he loved about Crowley above the belt. Like, when Crowley first met him and mooched an alcoholic drink off him during his Halloween party with a gratuitous amount of lewd flirting at 16, or how he disregarded dress code to wear a better fabric, and cut of shirt that he felt 'hot' in, or how his resting face was something comfortably between bitch, and bored, that made Lucifer want to kiss him.

"...So, do you think it'd have a chance?" Luci had gotten lost in the other man's voice far too easily, but he had a general guess, seeing as Crowley always cried about the same thing.

"I'm telling you, he's not returning your sentiment. He's not into you, you have to accept it." Luci babbled, flailing his hand pointlessly.

"Cas? Well..." There's a contemplative pause, "Would Dean be easier then?"

What? WHAT? He had to have heard that wrong, "Huh? Honey, you're talking nonsense, what the fuck'd you just say?" Lucifer half-laughed.

"Would Dean be easier to woo first than?" Lucifer's brain was not all there, considering that Crowley was still talking. His expression must have told Crowley everything, because he started over, "Do you think Castiel would be okay with polyamory?" Crowley quickly adds, "I mean, I know his father was the most Christian man to exist, but what do you think _his_ views are on it?"

"You'd have to ask." Lucifer grumbled lowly, covering his eyes with the back of his hand, "Is the sun, like, 8 times brighter than you remember, or is that just me?"

"Hmm? Oh. That's just you, hen." Crowley hummed, petting the older man's hair.

***

Everything was coming up Kevin. Literally.

Kevin retched into the toilet bowl again, gripping the seat for support. Behind him, Raphael rubbed gentle circles on his back with one hand while he held the prophet's hair with the other.

"Just get it out," Raphael hummed, pulling a hair binder off his wrist and putting Kevin's hair up with it.

After a few more minutes of Kevin's body heaving from a mixture of gags and sobs caused by the acidity of the puke, he stilled. He sat up on his knees and sighed.

Kevin struggled to his feet, wobbling a little as he made his way towards the sinks, Raphael holding him to keep him sturdy. He looked in the mirror and grimaced. 

He turned the warm water on and splashed a handful of it onto his face. After retrieving more water with his cupped hands, he dried his face with the cuff of his hoodie.

"You should see the nurse," Raphael stressed, scooping some water up to wash the unlucky hairs that had been touched by the vomit.

"I'm fine," Kevin groaned, pouring water down his throat and gurgling it, spitting it back up after a number of seconds. He repeated this gesture in a feeble attempting to clear his throat of the taste.

"You just threw up, I'm not sure you're 'fine,'" Raphael countered, pulling his phone out and glancing at the time. "Sixth period just started."

"Shit. We're taking a test today," Kevin surged to get up, but Raphael put a calm hand on his shoulder. "Raph, let me go. I can't miss this test."

"You can take it tomorrow. We need to get you to the nurse," Raphael guided his body out of the bathroom and down the left, to the Nurse's Room. The opposite direction of his sixth-hour classroom.

"Raph, seriously. I need to take this test. I'm failing the class!" Kevin struggled against his body.

"What's your grade, Kev?" Raphael inquired, still dragging Kevin to the Nurse.

"A ninety-fucking-six! I can't miss this test, I'm telling you! I stayed up until 3 AM studying for it!" At this point, Kevin had ceased struggling, knowing that Raphael wouldn't let him go to his sixth-period class.

"Well, since you have band seventh-hour, which I know you're passing with flying colors, you can make it up that hour. Only if you stay in the Nurse's for sixth though."

Kevin, realizing this was his best choice, nodded begrudgingly.

Raphael opened the door to the Nurse's Office and walked in.

"Hello, Mrs. Rooney. Kevin's sick," Raphael mentioned before dumping Kevin onto one of the sick beds.

"Give me just a minute," Mrs. Rooney quickly wrote something down, then turned around and went through the routine of checking Kevin for illness. Kevin cringed inwardly when she stuck the thermometer under his tongue.

"And what makes you think Mr. Tran is sick?" She asked, throwing the thermometer in the trash.

"He just threw up for somewhere near five minutes," Raphael retorted, deadpan. "I'm pretty sure he's sick."

"Well, he's running a fever, but not much else. Can you think of what might have made him throw up? Something he ate, perhaps?" Mrs. Rooney asked, taking a seat next to Kevin. 

"Kevin is going to argue that it's food poisoning-"

"It is! The demons have done it before and they could do it again!" Kevin interrupted, crossing his arms.

"But I'm convinced it's stress. When he threw up, it was right before a test he stayed up all night studying for," Raphael resumed, ignoring Kevin's outburst.

"Ah. That sounds like stress sickness," The nurse flicked her eyes over Kevin, and he could feel her eyes bore into his greasy mop of hair and his rings around his eyes. "How many hours of sleep did you get last night?"

Kevin mumbled a response under his breath.

"Four," Raphael translated, and Kevin glanced over at his concern-filled face.

"So, assuming it's stress, I can't send him home, but I can keep him here for the rest of the day," She hummed, sketching down a pass for him.

Kevin would have argued, but Raphael placed a soothing hand on his shoulder. "Please, just sleep. You deserve it."

Kevin rolled his eyes, laying his head back on the pillow, "Fine, but you better freaking wake me up at seventh-period," He threatened, curling up onto his side.

"Okay," Raphael whispered, patting him on the thigh before standing up.

"Where do you think you're going?" He asked, watching him approach the door.

"Well, I need to attend my sixth-hour, so I'll be off. _But_ , I'll send someone to check up on you," He said, holding his hand up as he walked out the door.

Disregarding that last statement, Kevin cuddled up into the stiff mattress, slowly drifting into a restless unconsciousness.

***

Lucifer and Crowley rounded the entire mall complex a second time, and frankly, Crowley wanted to decapitate the other man for making him walk this much. That's what skipping PE is for, after all. "How have you not found something to buy?" The ex-king hissed, bringing his index, and middle fingers to massage his temples.

"Oh, well, I did," Lucifer remarked, smirking, "I just like the way your ass looks in those jeans." He chuckled when Crowley punched him in the shoulder. It was playful, but most certainly was not a love tap. "I was just wondering how long we'd keep going for."

"You whore, you waste my precious time." Crowley grumbled, but let Lucifer give him a kiss on the cheek, and hold his hand. Next thing he knew, he was being dragged to the goth section of the mall. He knew he'd fit in relatively fine with his black tim's boots, jacket, shirt, and dark wash jeans, but it wasn't his vibe exactly.

Lucifer was inside the large shop immediately, and had taken to running his fingers along the shelving, 'ooh'ing quietly as he found the chokers. Crowley followed nonchalantly, peeking over Lucifer's shoulder, "That one looks like Ramsey's." He comments, pointing to a spiked collar among soft, lacey, pretty collars that were coupled with the chokers for some reason. Kink wear should always be separate from jewelry. At least that had always been Crowley's ideology.

"It does..." Luci trailed his fingers over the nice fabric, "I... I haven't seen Ramsey since I got back." Lucifer frowned, and turned to Crowley, "I think my brothers might have sold her or something. I wasn't going to be able to take her to college, but, I kinda hoped they would take good care of her, ya know?" The older man pocketed the faux necklace.

"I'm not surprised. I love the gal, but she wasn't very friendly, or trainable, or much of anything besides huge, half wolf, and very hungry." Crowley rumbled, walking along the display to some satin gloves.

"She never bit anyone." Lucifer retorted, following behind to kiss the younger man's neck.

"But a load of strays went missing that night she got out." Crowley groaned, pushing Luci's face away.

Lucifer grumbled, but didn't continue the previous conversation, "What else does _Daddy_ think I'd look pretty in?"

Crowley swallowed thickly. Damnit, damn it all to hell. "We're not in a bloody sex shop," Crowley whispered angerly.

Luci blinked innocently in return, "So, no skirt, or heels, or thigh highs, Daddy?"

Fuck everything about this situation. "Cinnamon, if you keep talking like this, there will be no sex." The younger man countered, watching Lucifer's body physically sag at the one threat he didn't fuck around with.

"Crow..." Luci pouted.

"Are we done then?" Crowley asked, taking a few steps in the direction of the exit.

Lucifer frowned, "Can I just grab some nail polish? It's cute when we match."

***

Kevin woke up to quiet munching. He opened his eyes to see Jack Rooney, resident kid-who-got-suspended-for-putting-his-ass-on-the-line-to-save-the-prophet-and-is-also-a-huge-sweetheart, munching a bar of nougat. His face lit up when he saw Kevin. 

"Hey, Kev!" He greeted, sitting the bar on his lap and wiping at his mouth with his sleeve.

"Hey, Jack," Kevin rubbed at his bleary eyes. "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, well, Raphael asked if I would be willing to stay with you for awhile, since you couldn't come to class because you're sick, and I said yeah, so now I'm here, and my mom's the nurse, so I can kinda chill in here whenever," Mrs. Rooney smiled over Jack's shoulder. "Also, your hair looks nice up," Jack rambled, gesturing offhandedly at Kevin's tied up hair.

"Thanks," Kevin smiled, glancing around the room. There was only the nurse and one other student in the office, and they were chatting away.

"You want some nougat?" Jack asked, holding the bar out in one hand.

"Oh, I still feel kind of nauseated, but thanks," Kevin explained, politely shaking his head.

Jack grimaced, "Sorry, I was told you were kinda under the weather, not specifics, buuuttt" He looked around conspiratorially, "Mom has some food to help settle stomachs in her fridge. I'll go get some," He flashed Kevin a lopsided grin and stood up.

Jack walked over to a small mini-fridge sat in the corner of the room and opened it up, fishing a banana out. He then pulled a Styrofoam cup out of a bag on top of the fridge. He took a bottle out from the fridge and poured it into the cup. Afterward, he placed the bottle back in the fridge and turned back to Kevin.

Jack sat back down in his chair next to the prophet and handed him the banana, "Bananas help with unsettled stomachs, and so does ginger tea."

"Oh," Kevin whispered, grabbing the banana and peeling it before taking a bite. He'd never really been fond of bananas, they'd always been far too slimy and phallic, but he figured if Jack thought it'd help, where's the harm in trying?

"I was wondering if you wanted to play some Overwatch after school's out?" Jack asked.

Kevin swallowed the bite of mush he had in his mouth and turned to Jack. "Yeah, sure. What time is it right now though?" He questioned, his eyes scanning for a clock in the room.

"It is..." Jack trailed off as he pulled out his phone and turned it on. "3:15."

"What?!" Kevin exclaimed, leaning his head over to catch a glimpse of Jack's phone. Over a battle picture of Orisa, one of Jack's tank mains, it read 3:15 in bright white letters. 

"Why didn't you wake me up?" Kevin asked, "School ends in ten minutes!"

"Raphael said you needed sleep and to not wake you up unless the school was burning down. And the school hasn't burned down, so I figured I should leave you," Jack shrugged. "But I have your homework. If you want to work on it now..?"

Kevin sighed and shook his head. He knew he should do his homework, but god did his head hurt.

"Okay, good. I wasn't supposed to let you do it, but I didn't want you to get scared cuz you didn't have it," Jack said.

"Well, thank you, Jack Rooney," Kevin said, laughing a tiny bit.

"You're welcome, Kevin Tran."

***

Crowley dropped Lucifer off at school just as everyone was getting out. The eldest Shurley brother, despite his many flaws, and oddities, insisted he at least drive his brothers home. Crowley eventually figured it was the last shred of trust he had with any of his brothers, seeing as he'd disappeared off the face of the earth during his 2 gaps years with Balthazar, and now was more often than not, somewhere either sucking dick, or getting fucked. But, Crowley respected Luci's wishes and promised to pick him up later.

For now, Crowley drove back to the graveyard, and took to slowly killing himself by taking a long drag of the cigarette. After letting this day weigh heavy on him, Crowley glanced at his phone screen, and the contacts. He had too many that never talked to him. Not that he really wanted to be constantly bombarded by dozens of text messages, but it would be nice to receive one or two. That's when he scrolled down to some of his oldest call history. Fuck.

Castiel's name sat pretty as his first ever call far too many years ago, and God, what had he done to not deserve Castiel? Lucifer was his fuck buddy, nothing more. Whatever Lucifer made their relationship in his eyes, is his problem. Crowley had always yearned for a soft, domestic life, one he also wanted for Castiel. But, Dean had just _yanked_ it out from under him, and now that life seemed distant, childishly stupid, and unobtainable. He couldn't imagine himself without Castiel. So he wouldn't.

But, before those thoughts came to mind, he pressed Castiel's gorgeous name, closing his eyes as he listened to it ring.

A final ring went off before Crowley heard the phone click and Castiel answer, "Hello? Crowley?" His soft voice asked, penetrating the quiet graveyard.

"Hey, kitten. How was school?" He asked lazily. Castiel's voice was better than any drug Luci had to offer him.

"It was fine. The play is really pulling together," There was a soft rustling on Castiel's end, "Not to be rude, Crowley, but why is it that you're calling?"

"Can't I just call sometimes?" He frowned, "Why? You got something to be doing, Poppet?" He asked enthusiastically, running his fingers through the grass, trying to conjure up the calming thought of holding the other man. 

"I have to help Samandriel with his homework, but, no, I have a few minutes, I was just hoping you weren't in trouble," Castiel explained, "After I'm done with that, though, I should have free time. If you want to do something."

Crowley sat up quickly, "Yes! Yes! Where do you want to go?" Forget depressed dazes and feeling shitty for himself. He took a quick drag off his cigarette, and blew out the smoke, "How long?" Please let this kid be smart.

Crowley heard Castiel kiss his teeth on the other end, and, _God_ , Crowley wishes he were those teeth. "He'll be home in five minutes, but it normally takes around half an hour to actually do the homework, so forty-five minutes probably? It depends whether Naomi has a test tomorrow or not, but I don't think she does."

He wanted to offer to just come over, he wanted to so bad. But that's not how he was planning on winning over Castiel, "Okay, so, I'll see you in about... an hour then?" That's good. He's doing good. 'Screw plans with Lucifer, he'll find something else to do.' Crowley thought, taking another drag.

"Yeah, that sounds good. See you then," Crowley's heart warmed as he heard a smile on Castiel's face.

"Okay, see you then, Love." Crowley responds before hanging up, grinning dumbly to only himself, and the graveyard. Damn it all, Crowley adored that sweet man.

***

Crowley put out his fourth cigarette in the last hour, crushing it under his heel after he got off his motorcycle. Maybe he got excited, and showed up 5 minutes earlier, but, was that really that bad? He checked his motorcycle stand and turned to the door, taking a confident inhale. He marched up to the door and knocked before he could convince himself otherwise.

After a few seconds of waiting, Castiel opened the door, a towel thrown over his shoulder. "Oh, hey, Crowley," he said, a tired smile on his face. "Samandriel and I are almost done here, but I was informed that both him and Naomi hadn't eaten yet, so I'm making dinner for them right now. You can just come in, though, it'll be just a minute," Castiel turned and headed back into the house, gesturing for Crowley to follow him.

Crowley felt his actual heart skip an actual beat. He was welcome in Castiel's home? God, and he reeked of smoke, what a fucking mistake he was. But, he broke the threshold before Castiel might change his mind. "You're just a doll, Castiel." He commented, taking a breath of scent that was uniquely Castiel. Fuck, he wished he lived here. "What are you making?" He asked, looking around the entryway of the house. Does he take off his shoes, or...?

"I'm making spaghetti. Samandriel loves the way I make it," Castiel glanced back, realizing the issue, "Oh, you can take your shoes off if you like. Naomi is kind of a germophobe, but she's in her room right now. She probably wouldn't notice if you don't draw attention to it." He pulled out a chair and gestured for Crowley to sit, opposite Samandriel, who was slaving away over Algebra homework. Castiel turned his attention to a pot sitting on the oven, shifting it around on the flame as he stirred it.

It wouldn't be too much of a hassle, so, he did indeed slip off his shoes. The older man looked up, and honestly, Crowley's not a man of weak will, but, he did lean awkwardly around to get a look at the other man's butt. It felt so surreal, this is what Castiel went home to every day. So surreal to see Castiel in his environment, feeling safe. But that's not the point. "So, you're the little Castiel. Samandriel, then? You find the cute pictures that make Castiel happy?" He asked, and then leaned a little closer, "What's your secret?"

Samandriel looked up from his homework, close knitted eyebrows relaxing as he grinned. "He's really into cat gifs. Like, _really_ into them. Have you seen that one gif, the one where the chick puts the pink thing on her cat's head, and it goes _still_?" He continued on after he saw Crowley's confused face. "Well, the chick sings a song while doing it, and he made it the ringtone for when I call him. Let me show you," He pulled his phone out and swiped the screen, poking at it for a few seconds before smirking.

The little jingle plays through its entirety, and Castiel low-key bops along, humming. Absolutely adorable. Crowley wants to make Castiel feel like that. The song finishes, and Castiel quietly chuckles, "Thank you, Samandriel." He responds calmly, smiling softly. It made Crowley's heart warm.

Crowley weighed the options and stood up, "Where's your bathroom?"

"First door on the left down the hall," Castiel pointed to the said hallway, attention leaving the pasta for just a moment to make sure Crowley found his way to the bathroom.

Crowley moseyed down the way, and passed the bathroom, quickly flicking the lights on, and shutting the door in favor of quietly stalking to find Castiel's room. He ignored the obviously lit room and pressed open the half-opened one. At first, he couldn't have been sure which of the Novak's room it was, but when he turned on the lights and saw the contents of the room, he was sure. The room was rather plain, which was a major tip-off to it being Castiel's room, with simple sky-blue wallpaper. The trim of the room was clouds. Just clouds. Fluffy, soft, perfect clouds. Pushed into the corner was a mellow oak desk, worn with age and care. Castiel's homework was stacked in neat piles on the shiny wooden surface, a desk light sat in the corner. His bed was made neatly, a white comforter encompassing the frame of the bed. Very Castiel in nature.

He looked around, tracing the pattern of the desk's grain. Surely he could take one small thing. Something he could easily pocket that Castiel wouldn't miss. So, he lets his eyes wander, landing on Castiel's clothing drawers. Fuck him. If this ever got out... Too bad he was already frantically, and quietly, searching for his underwear drawer. After a moment he found the right drawer, and pulled an orange pair out at random, and had a vivid memory of Castiel mildly talking about how orange was lucky.

He glanced at the display of other colors, but more than half were orange, so, who'd know? He folded the pair into a near squre before slipping the underwear into his leather jacket's inner pocket. With that, he returned the room to normal: lights off, door half shut. He slipped back into the bathroom, and flushed the toilet, running the sink, wetting his hands, minimally drying them, then shutting off the lights and leaving the door open. "Okay, we ready?" He asked, walking in as he dried his hands on his jeans.

"Oh, yeah. Pasta's just about done," Cas answered, transporting the noodles from the strainer to a new bowl, pouring sauce in and mixing it up. He moved the bowl to the table and turned back to the counter, where he quickly shredded a block of cheese on a plate that he once again brought to the table.

"Did you finish your homework?" Castiel asked, hand on Samandriel's shoulder. After he nodded, Cas smiled, leaning down and pecking him on the forehead, "Good job," He paused at his ear, whispering, "There's ice cream in the fridge. You and Naomi have deserved it. I don't want any, so treat yourselves."

Samandriel stuck his tongue out at the mention of his sister. Castiel chuckled, "She's having a hard time at school right now, okay? Don't be too hard on her." He quickly walked over to the room with the lights turned on and knocked, "Naomi? I'm going out, but there's food in the dining room," Castiel retracted from the door and walked back over to Crowley's side, sighing while grabbing his hand, "Now I'm ready."

Crowley smiled, "Great," He had to stop himself from leaning down to kiss Castiel, even though he deserved it. Eventually he would be able to, but for now, he had to know his limits. "Do you like roller skating, turtle-dove?" He asked, having already slipped his shoes back on.

Castiel hummed softly, "I don't think I've ever roller skated," He made his way with Crowley to the door, outside, and then to the motorcycle.

Internally, Crowley thought about how well this could go. He'd skated several times a few years ago when Luci was 'wooing' him, if you could call it that. It's like riding a bike, you never forget how. So, he hops onto his motorcycle, and starts it, "It's fun, you'll like it." Probably not the first few falls, but that'd be okay, because he was here to kiss those wounds away.

***

Crowley parked and helped Castiel off the bike. They walked inside, and Crowley got out his wallet to pay, "Inlines or Quads, darling?" He asked.

"What's the difference?" Castiel inquired, lips in a slightly confused pout, his eyebrows knit together.

 _God_ , he wanted to kiss that pretty mouth of Castiel's, "Quads have four wheels, all spread out so you can balance, while inlines have them all in a row. Kind of like a car verse my motorcycle." He responded.

"Mmm," he tapped his chin thoughtfully, "Quads." He decided, flicking his gorgeous blue eyes to Crowley. 

"Okay, hen," Crowley replied, and turned to the woman at the window, paying in exchange for the tickets. Afterward, he guides Castiel into the small crowd of human beings around them. It wasn't one of the school-orientated skate nights, so it happened to be mostly older, freshman-sophomore kids from neighboring high schools. "Skates first then?"

Castiel's eyes moved around wearily, hiking his trenchcoat's hem up uncomfortably to avoid contact with sets of previously unnoticed skates.

"Maybe you should just take it off, darling," Crowley commented, unsure whether Castiel's trenchcoat would remain intact if he kept it on.

"Where would I put it?" Castiel asked, balling the fabric up and keeping it above knee level. Castiel looked up at Crowley with distraught. That's when it clicked for Crowley. This trenchcoat meant the world to Castiel. From what Crowley had heard, Balthazar had given it to him on his first day of high school, and he'd never once seen him without it since. Castiel said that he'd gotten it because he was constantly cold, but Crowley had noticed something interesting about the arrival of the outerwear. For the eight years before he'd acquired the trenchcoat, he'd been... Fidgety was a nice way to put it, Crowley supposed. He couldn't go a full period without biting on his cheek, or picking at his fingers' cuticles. 

After his wardrobe change, however, he'd been much calmer. He still fidgetted, but now it was under the thick fabric of the trenchcoat, letting him do it more often without the judgemental eyes of others. He'd grown so attached to it, he couldn't imagine not having it. Exactly how Crowley felt about him.

"Just a minute, love," Crowley purred, approaching the nearest woman and stopping in front of her.

"Pardon me, miss, but I need that..." What was the word? "Elastic," He resolved, dangerously flashing his status as part of the "Pussy Magnets" to the woman he recognized as Haley Collins. She squeaked and handed him one of the hair binders on her wrist, running away quickly after.

Crowley turned back to Castiel, holding the newly acquired band. "Turn for me, honeysuckle," He asked, watching as Castiel turned away from him.

Crowley bent down a tad to have a good access to Castiel's tush, and he collected as much cotton fabric as possible before bunching it up and wrapping the plastic band around it. He stood and smiled at his handiwork, the trenchcoat now falling just above mid-thigh. "There we go, kitten, nothing to fret about-"

He was cut off as Castiel embraced him. "Thank you, Crowley," He whispered, arms wrapped firmly around his shoulders and back.

"Any time, babes. And, look, now you have a deer tail," He chuckled, hugging back tightly. Was this too close? Should they be touching? Was he hugging too tight? Were his hands too low? Uhh. He never had this issue before. Lucifer welcomed any kind of touch, and he hadn't received a hug from Castiel in... Too long.

"Okay," Castiel seemed to attempt to pull away for just a split second before relaxing back into the embrace and cupping Crowley's face. "What was that you said about putting on the skates?" He asked.

Okay, okay, time to let go. Crowley retracted his grasp, and took a step back, dusting off his leather jacket. "Ah, yes. Come with." He said, and grabbed the other man's hand, guiding him to the counter where a man in his mid-twenties was handing out skates. Crowley rattled off their sizes and slipped off his shoes while coaxing Castiel to do the same. He then collected the skates and sat off to the side on a low-to-the-ground sorta bench.

Crowley watched as Castiel stuffed his feet into the skates with minimal struggle; however, he came to an impasse when it came to tying up the shoes. He stared at the half-tied laces for a few seconds, swiping his tongue over his lips. "How tight should they be tied?" Castiel questioned.

Crowley quickly clasped his own skates and knelt down in front of Castiel. "They should hug your ankles." The man said, tightening the laces significantly. No dirty thoughts, nope, none at all. He tied them and stood up. Whoa, okay, he's got this.

Crowley found his balance and took a few, carpet muffled, steps backward. "Okay, upsy daisy, Poppet."

"Ummm," Castiel squeaked, resting one hand on the bench for support while easing his body into the air. Crowley made his way towards where Castiel stood with his arms wrapped a pole.

His fucking mind, God, get out of the gutter, "C'mon turtle-dove, you can do it." Crowley encouraged, gently offering a hand to Castiel.

Crowley clasped his hand as he leaned over to where he stood, and Castiel almost immediately fell towards him, grabbing one of Crowley's shoulders to support him.

Crowley grabbed onto his waist as he grabbed his shoulder, Castiel's legs wobbling around underneath him. Crowley pretended that he was not rusty at skating, but rather new to supporting a second person's body while skating.

"Is it always this... Disorientating?" Castiel questioned, grabbing onto Crowley's neck as he attempted to get his bearings.

"You get used to it after a while," Crowley responded, pleased to have an excuse to be in the man's warm presence.

"Good. I would hate for us to do this again at another date and have me not be accustomed to the feel," Castiel murmured, a small smile on his lips.

They hadn't even started skating yet and Castiel was already in favor of coming again! Crowley was ecstatic. He also liked the choice of the word 'date', but he knew better.

Crowley eased Castiel towards the Kids' Area, gently instructing him on how to walk with skates on. After they arrived in the more beginner friendly area, Castiel smiled at all the small children. "They remind me of Samandriel when he was younger. He was a tiny, chubby little guy," He chuckled softly, groping the wall for support as they got into the rink.

Crowley chuckled, "I bet they do." His eyes were on Castiel, staying the careful distance of 'not in the rink' away. He just wanted space between him and the kids. He'd hated little children ever since he no longer counted as one during his teens. They were so loud, and messy, and unhygienic. Honestly, he despised anyone more than 2 years under his age, but, it's probably best that way. "Do you want help?"

"Hmm. I think I can get it." Castiel comments, just loud enough to be heard over the children, starting to roughly get a feel for skating.

Crowley, meanwhile, is watching easily, making sure to edge closer to the entrance when Castiel makes it to the adjacent wall. It starts to make Crowley stressed, even though he knew the other man was smart, and not willing to do much that was out of his comfort zone. Crowley wanted to be the knight in shining armor to Castiel, here to make this experience fun, and stain in Castiel's mind that this activity was uniquely Crowley. Mostly because he didn't want Dean to spend time here. This was Crowley's place, and surely no Winchesters would show their faces here without his explicit consent.

While Crowley was in his head, Castiel had managed to make his way to almost a fourth of the way around the rink, slowly getting smoother with his skates as he skated for longer. After Castiel had skated a full rink around, Crowley approached him, leaning over the half wall that divided them. "We can go out to the big rink if you're feeling confident, love." He half-purred.

///

They had skated and skated for hours, Castiel getting progressively better as they went. Crowley was still quite a bit better than the other, but he was definitely better at it than some of the other skaters at the rink. After a while, though, Crowley noticed that Castiel seemed to be getting more tired. 

He eventually skated up to him, "Crowley, what time is it?" He asked while swiping at his bleary eyes.

The older man looked around for a clock before remembering his phone. He glanced at his surroundings before turning the screen alight. "8:48, darling. Why? Is that too late?" He hummed absentmindedly.

"Well, Samandriel has a tendency to stay up until I get home, no matter when I do so," Castiel explained, glancing over to where they'd left their shoes.

"He won't mind if I keep you a bit longer then." Crowley skated effortlessly to the exit of the rink, carefully avoiding any dumb children that he would have bumped into if he had been less skilled. At least he liked to think so. "By the way, what do you like about Dean?"

Crowley smiled a little as Castiel crinkled up his nose, "What do you mean? Are you asking what I 'find attractive' about him?" He retrieved his hands from his pockets and used them to form air quotes.

Okay, awkward. How was he supposed to phrase this? "Yeah, sure." He responded simply.

"Well," Crowley felt an odd coil of jealousy in his stomach as Castiel's posture relaxed, almost melting at the mere chance to talk about Dean, "in terms of looks, he has great eyes. His freckles are very nice. He has an amazing fashion sense," Castiel trailed off, muttering about odd little mannerisms he noticed in Dean. "He's really smart, too. I mean, I know he only keeps his grades up because I'd be less likely to cook for him if he didn't, but I'm really glad he does, honestly. He's told me before he wants to go to college for mechanical engineering, so he'll need good grades for that," He paused abruptly and grimaced at Crowley. "Oh, I'm rambling, aren't I? Well, I love pretty much everything about Dean. Why do you ask?"

Crowley inwardly grimaced. He hated that look in Castiel's eyes, and the way it wasn't directed towards him. Getting over his hatred for Dean Winchester was bound to be a fucking roller coaster, and maybe he shouldn't have started that tonight. But, it seemed like Castiel was in a good mood, and better now than never. "What does your doll, Dean, like?" He tried not to sound too sketchy, "Like, what would you get him for his birthday?" Ugh, well, he'd already said it.

"Well," And there he goes with that damn teeth-kissing again, "I normally get him something mechanical. Like, stuff to fix cars with. This year, though, I got him this sweatshirt that says something like 'This is what an awesome mechanic looks like,' and he wears it way more often than I thought he would. Most of the time, on his birthday, I'll get him a present, we'll do something, we'll go back to his house, he eats a pie I make, and then we just chill. It's nice. I'm sorry if that didn't answer your question. He seems to like pretty much anything I get him, so I'm not exactly sure what he'd like from other people."

Crowley let Castiel talk to him with his beautiful voice, and Crowley ended up drowning out about half of what Castiel had said. Tools? That sounded right, Dean was far more 'straight guy' anyways. Cool, cool. He could do that. "No, that's wonderful. Thank you, Darling." Crowley smiled. God, why was Castiel so damn handsome? This was cruelly unfair.

"You're welcome. Now, we should start heading back, shouldn't we?" He proposed, moving towards a bench. Crowley followed him, plunking his body's weight down next to him. He slipped his own skates off with ease before grabbing one of Castiel's legs and placing it onto his lap, being careful not to strain Castiel's body as he turned him. Crowley quickly unknotted the ties, familiar with them as it was his own craftsmanship that had brought them into existence. He could feel the steady heat of Castiel's breath on the side of his head, smell the minty floss he'd spotted in the bathroom that had been in use for the last seven years.

Crowley softly rapped on Castiel's ankle to signify that he had finished unlooping the ties and tugged them off his foot, setting them next to his own pair. He stood up and offered his hand to Castiel, helping him up when he accepted it. Crowley watched with a suppressed smile as Castiel stomped his feet on the ground a few times in an attempt to regain his balance.

They steadily made their way to the skate desk, trading their skates out for their actual shoes, and slipping them over their socks before leaving to the parking lot and resituating themselves on Crowley's motorcycle.

"Are you hungry, honeysop? I'm starved," Crowley grumbled, revving the engine while waiting for Castiel's response.

"A little," He hummed, resting his head in the crook of the demon's neck.

The trusting gesture warmed Crowley's heart to the brim, and he desperately hoped for it to mean something. That, _maybe_ , he was winning over Castiel. "Do you have a preference, hen?"

"Not in particular. If we could go somewhere where everything on the list isn't hundreds of calories, though, that would be nice," Crowley was barely able to make out the words over the wind whipping past them.

Crowley processed the options, but off the top of his head, he didn't really know any place that wasn't over 400 calories. "So, IHOP is good for you?" He asked as they casually stopped at a red light. He didn't really like breaking the law when Castiel was with him; it felt tacky.

"IHOP is good," Castiel whispered. Crowley leaned ever so slightly backward, into the feeling of Castiel's soft lips ghosting the shell of his ear.

For fuck's sake. Crowley was blushing, and thinking about all the dirty things he wanted to hear from those lips. He hastily pulled down on this black t-shirt to force it to cover his crotch, dammit. But, the light turned green, and they were so close to IHOP already.

It was an uncomfortable, brief drive as Crowley pulled up to the restaurant, trying not to think about anything besides getting there. He parked, and casually wiggled his shirt down a little lower in hopes that it covered, not trying to bring attention to his situation. "Hmm, 9:03, we've got an hour. That's surely enough time." Crowley grumbled, helping Castiel off the bike.

"Hm? Oh," Castiel blinked a few times as he glanced at the fluorescent sign, and oh fuck Crowley hoped he wouldn't fall asleep. That wouldn't end well. "That should be good."

"Stupendous," Crowley commented, gently grabbing Castiel's hand, leading him inside to the basically empty establishment.

Crowley stood for a moment until a waiter glanced at them, and guided them to a booth, setting down menus before moseying off.

"He was nice," Castiel hummed conversationally after they placed their drink orders.

"Yeah," Crowley responded, and looked over the menu, sitting it down. Okay, small talk it would be, "So, how've your classes been?" He asked, looking around the restaurant. It had some nice pictures at least. They were black and white, but nice.

"Good. I've been having some trouble with math recently, but it doesn't appear to be bad enough to affect my grades," He responded offhandedly, picking one of the crayons on the table along with a napkin.

Crowley grinned to himself, fully aware that the only reason Castiel still had a one hundred in that class was that he'd paid good people good money to 'help' Castiel's math grade. Give it a boost every now and then. Only when absolutely necessary, of course.

His grin stuck as he watched Castiel doodle a small image of something or another.

"Mmmm," Castiel started, glancing up at Crowley from under his thick, beautiful lashes. "I'm going to go wash my hands." He decided, his eyes shifting from Crowley to the bathroom before standing up.

Crowley paused, and weighted his next move, was it appropriate to also wash his hands? Yeah, it was. He had no clue when Lucifer had last bathed, and he smelled kind of like smoke. "I should as well. If that's cool."

"Yeah, that's 'cool'" Damned air quotes.

Once they made their way into the bathroom, Crowley remembered his 'situation'. "Oh, Castiel, finish up without me, I actually need to _use_ the restroom," He said, shrugging towards one of the stalls as he walked into it, immediately unzipping his trousers after he snapped the lock shut. He waited until he heard the door open and close again before getting down to business.

Fuck, his mind had NO right to give him such dirty images of Castiel. Sweet, wonderful, innocent- Fuck. Crowley closed his eyes as he gripped himself, stoking with one hand, as he used the right to press against the wall, giving himself some stability as he thought about Castiel's pretty eyes, and perfect face, and those _sinful_ lips. He groaned quietly, resting his head on his outstretched arm. _No fucking right._

Crowley stroked faster, whining needily. He wanted so, so urgently to be able to just think of Castiel as some far off, untouchable creature with a distant, gorgeous expression of constant enthrallment on his beautiful, near otherworldy, features. But that just wasn't the case. The man could have been his. Crowley's toes curled in his shoes, stroking himself faster, rasping quietly, "Castiel," as he thought about what Castiel's gorgeous body might be capable of doing.

Fuck, _fuck, **fuck**_. Faster, _faster, **harder**_. Crowley began to feel sweat collecting on his forehead, wiping it away on his inner black t-shirt as he panted, and moaned. He wanted to touch, and hold Castiel with his hands after making him scream his name. He wanted something sweet, and loving with Castiel, but all his brain wanted was to think of Castiel shirtless, and under him, drunk as can be, howling as Crowley makes him feel content. Something that, Crowley wasn't quite sure he could provide in all honesty.

Suddenly, there's a wet feeling in his palm, and Crowley looks down to notice that he's come. Immediately, it's all gross. His palm is covered in his own awful, warm liquid, and he's sweaty, and he kind of wants to puke. So, he shuffles his underwear and pants up with one hand, before unlocking the door. Abruptly, the phone in his pocket begins to sing Blue Swede's 'Hooked on a Feeling' about 30 seconds in. Wait- Fuck, bollocks. He had promised Lucifer something tonight.

Crowley ignored the song as it sang on, '... High on believing~! ~ That you're in love with me~! ...' and washed his hands thoroughly. He might actually vomit. No, no, okay. Good. Crowley managed to stomach it as he patted back his soft bronze-blond hair with water from his, now clean, hands. Awful, how great.

He zipped, and buttoned his pants before picking up the phone on its final line, '... Girl, you got me thirsty~ for another cup of wine~!', and rejecting the call on the instrumental. Not tonight, Lucifer. Crowley turned his phone onto silent, and took a deep breath, looking in the mirror at himself. Oh, thank God, he wanted to look like he just finished jerked off. For all that's holy, he punched the mirror, and watched it shattered into a cobweb of lines under his fist. It mesmerized the Senior until he realized that his knuckled had gotten mildly shredded. The pain settled in a mear second afterward, and he curled in on himself, letting his fist find a home near his stomach. VERY bad idea. Jesus, there was going to be some awful bruising there soon.

He straightened up after a moment, and realized that this was his life. His dreadful, disastrous life in a nutshell. He'd always look God awful, and make lousy decisions. If not worse than that, Lucifer would continuously be pestering him for sex while Castiel would invariably be just out of range. What a shitty metaphor for his existence. Well, time to face the facts.

With that, Crowley stepped out of the bathroom and headed back to the table.

Crowley's brows knit together as he heard a loud conversation. It should have been relatively silent, as there were not enough people in the restaurant to illicit such loud noises.

His brows creased even further after he realized where it was coming from.

"Come on~ It'll be fun~" A boy that Crowley didn't recognize purred, his face, very close to Castiel, who seemed like he wanted as little to do with him as possible.

"Um," Castiel licked his bottom lip awkwardly, "No, thank you. I have a boyfriend."

"So what? He doesn't need to know," Doucheface responded, somehow leaning even closer into Cas.

"I- um-" He stuttered flustered. His eyes locked right onto Crowley's and he realized he needed to do something.

He nonchalantly slid into the booth, reaching across the table and grabbing Castiel's hand. "Everything okay, turtle dove?"

"Oh, everything's good, thanks... babe," Castiel responded, more question than statement.

For once, Crowley felt irrefutably happy, "Is this man giving you trouble?" He asked, not even needing to fake the malice he shot the male's way.

"There is no way that's your boyfriend," The random man crossed his arms, still addressing Castiel.

"And why would you say that?" Crowley looked at the man with a questioning face. "Listen, you're making people uncomfortable, especially my boyfriend and I. I suggest you leave-"

"I ain't leaving if that piece of ass ain't taken, and I thoroughly believe he is single."

Castiel crinkled his nose as he took in what he'd just been called.

"What will it take you to believe it?" Crowley inquired, swallowing the rage that boiled just under his skin.

"I dunno," he paused, "like, if you make out or somethin' I'd believe it."

Crowley didn't want to do it, not when it wasn't because Castiel loved him, and wanted to kiss him, but Castiel's face of pure discomfort at the male's presence mixed with those soft, beautiful lips made him lean forward.

He cupped Castiel's face and did the thing he'd been wanting to do for the last ten years, but for all the wrong reasons.

Castiel closed his eyes before practically melting into the kiss, and Crowley couldn't tell he was faking it or not. He desperately hoped the latter.

Crowley was pretty sure tongue was a little far, but he wasn't exactly sure what 'making out' entailed.

The plain kiss seemed to be enough, though, because the man made a disgruntled noise and stalked off.

Castiel pulled away after the door jingles to signify that it had closed, and all went silent for a moment.

"I'm sorry," Castiel whispered.

"For what?" Crowley asked, his hand still on Castiel's. Trying to be comforting, but also, he just wanted the contact. It made the last minute real.

"That man gives me the creeps. He's on Dean's football team and he creepily flirts with me everytime he sees me," he shivered slightly.

Whoever he was, he was going to live out the rest of his high school career in a lot of regret for fucking around with his- with Castiel. "Don't worry, love. He won't bother you anymore if he knows what's good for him." Crowley responded, his voice nearly turning low and growling. Damn, he wasn't a bloody feral animal, he could have a proper conversation without getting jealous and protective.

Castiel looked like he was going to say something before pausing abruptly. "Shoot. Shoot shoot shoot..." He continued muttering the word as he fished his phone out of his pocket. He tapped anxiously on the screen before plastering it to his ear.

"Hi, babe," Castiel mumbled after the ringing stopped. He nodded softly as he listened to the other talk. A moment later he said, "You trust me, right?" Crowley hummed quietly to himself as their drinks arrived, taking a warm sip of his bitter coffee. "Okay, and you trust me more than Brad, right?" Castiel brought the glass of water to his lips. "Okay, so, if he starts saying stuff that you know isn't true, you'll ignore it, right?" He tapped on the oak of the table. "Okay, thank you. We'll talk about it when I get home, okay?" He ended the call after another second accompanied with a, "Bye, love you too."

Crowley's insides felt sour as he heard Castiel's concern, but, he pretended to look neutral. He'd personally beat that damn kid up tomorrow. It'd been a year or so since he'd gotten his hands dirty in bottom-dwelling demon affairs, but, this needed to be seen to. "Castiel, really, don't worry your pretty little head over it." Good, calm was the key. Nothing suspicious going on, nope.

He sighed and took another sip of the iced water, "I just don't want Dean to get worried over nothing."

What does he even say to that? Everything that was running through his mind was wrong and sounded terrible and clunky. God, he wanted some alcohol. He hated this, not Castiel, but everything that had to be on the surface level of his brain to be able to interact seamlessly with the other man. "Why?" He finally settled on. He wanted to hear Castiel talk more anyways. Whether it happened to be about Dean, didn't matter. At least not yet. "Why would he be worried?"

"Well, he told me that he'd gotten a call from Samandriel telling him that he was concerned why I wasn't home yet and telling him I'd been out with you. So, while he was talking to me, he brought up that he didn't want me out with other guys this late, and I just figured what happened wouldn't look good. I mean, he already thinks it's sketchy that we hang out every once in a while, and that, mixed with the fact that one of his football friends is going to tell him that we are 'dating'," he sighed resting his head in his hand. "I don't want him to think that anything is going on that isn't."

Was he crushed? Yes. But, he wasn't about to grill Castiel about why he was 'sketchy' to Dean. He'd, at least not while sober, done anything all that questionable while around Castiel or Dean. "Then, why don't we go?" Crowley mumbled, kind of defeated, and more than done with, well, kind of everything.

"Go where?" Castiel asked, his head doing the slight tilt it took on while confused.

"Home," He paused, "Well, I'll take you home." Crowley wasn't quite sure where he wanted to be tonight, but that certainly wasn't going to be Castiel's business.

"Yeah, that sounds good," The man hummed in response, the weight of the evening seeming to finally hit him as he pinched at the bridge of his nose.

Crowley waved over the waiter, paying before standing up, and waiting patiently for Castiel, who lazily stood up. "Darling, are you going to be okay to ride? I can wait for someone to pick you up." Maybe Crowley had a lot of mixed feelings for Castiel. But, he for certain knew that he didn't put Castiel in any sort of actual potential danger.

"Yeah, I'm fine, I'm just a little tired," He yawned as though to show his point.

Crowley frowned, "Are you sure, hen? I can't have you getting hurt. Dean would destroy me." Not that he'd let Dean, but, there'd be no more fun little outings like this. Only if Dean was the controlling sort with outings, of course. Which, honestly, Crowley wasn't 100% that Castiel would even notice, or care much if he was.

"We can wait for Dean to come pick me up, but it'll probably take somewhere near twenty minutes," He bobs his head a little and takes his phone out to check the time.

"Yeah, I think that'd be for the best," Crowley comments, and sits back down. "We can wait." He would call Lucifer, but, that's better saved for after Castiel leaves, seeing as sometimes Lucifer gets a little out of hand.

So, as Dean pulled up, and took Castiel home, Crowley slipped out to his bike and attempted to call Lucifer 5 times. After the fifth attempt, Crowley took a wild guess that the guy probably was asleep, whether, through various alcohols, or actual fatigue, he didn't hazard a guess, knowing it was the former. With that, Crowley got on his bike, and headed home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting will probably be stretched a bit more from now on, seeing as I still have other fics I've been cycling through, trying to finish, and the other two authors have very busy lives.  
> That doesn't mean this fic will be abandoned all that soon, it just means that chapters might take a bit longer to get out as all sorts of ideas are sitting in drafts, and notes that haven't been written. The two authors have supplied the fic with many, many ideas, and bits they are adding to when possible.  
> However, I do have many Crowley bits pre-written, so my wonderful expertise of Crowley Whump-age is pretty much guaranteed.  
> -Mosquito~
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chap! We have another one we're gonna drop in a few days, but, after that, as Mosquito said, updating may be a little scarce. Sorry.  
> -Snow


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thanksgiving is held at the Winchester's this year!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A belated Thanksgiving chap : )
> 
> Sorry for how late this chap! I love me some procrastination.  
> -Snow

Dean sighed, opening his eyes to stare at the back of Cas's head.

"Babe? What's wrong?" Dean asked, trying to keep the aggravation out of his voice.

"What do you mean?" Castiel asked, moving his head slightly back against Dean's shoulder in what Dean assumed to be a feeble attempt to make eye contact.

"Well, not to be a dick or anything, Cas, but, normally, when we spoon, you don't move an inch. You just kinda lay there. But, right now, it's like you can't get comfy. Are you good?" Dean shifted just an inch so that his arm fit well on top of Castiel's waist.

Castiel stayed silent for a moment, intertwining one of his hands with Dean's. "It's nothing."

"Babe, I will turn the lamp on." This was no empty threat; in certain circumstances, Dean would roll out of bed, stand up, walk across the cold floor to the other side of the room, grope awkwardly for the cord in the dark, and then flick on the light, successfully preventing either of them from getting another blink of sleep for the next three hours.

"It's stupid."

"No, it's not," Dean sighed again, rubbing Castiel's knuckles with his thumb.

"I'm just worried about Thanksgiving, I haven't seen some of the people that are going to be there in a while, or, in some cases, at all," He took a breath to continue on, but something clicked for Dean.

"Wait, what's Thanksgiving got to do with any of this?" He asked suddenly.

"Well, it's today."

Shit.

***

Castiel woke up to his own internal alarm and rolled over to kiss the man laying beside him. Dean murmured quietly in his sleep, turning over to face him. Castiel smiled gently and stood up. He was extremely familiar with the Winchester house and passed Adam's room, which Castiel could easily assume was locked, as always.

He was tempted to call, and wake Raphael for the turkey, but Cas knew it wasn't going to help... Well, anybody, so he declined. A few seconds of thinking later, he realized that it was actually 6:00. _Oh_ The bright-eyed man thought, once he heard footsteps.

"Um... Cas?" Called the 'prophet', as he knocked on the wood.

Cas decided it was very inappropriate to shout, especially when others had been resting, not that he was a fan of raising his voice, anyway. So, he walked to the front door, unlocked then proceeded to open it.

"Yes?" The man answered, shifting the door, therefore letting Kevin through. Yet, right behind, unbeknownst to Cas, was Jack.

"Hello!" Said the taller of the two extremely smart sophomores, holding a casserole.

"U-um, hello... Jack?" Of course, Castiel had known that was his name, but, he didn't comprehend it for a minute. He stood there, blinking like he just saw an attractive ghost, because he wasn't pale, nor was he scared, just surprised.

"Oops, sorry for barging in!" Jack said glancing at the stove.

"No, it's fine." Castiel rolled out of the haze, "I was going to make eggs, want some?".

Jack chuckled, "It depends, Kev?"

"No thank you, I just ate." Kevin voiced his opinion.

"Why are you guys over so early?" Cas asked, putting an apron over his soft pajamas, blank of any designs.

"Kevin couldn't sleep."

Kevin realized what they'd been saying, "But I'm not tired." He spoke with certainty.

"How about Raphael?" Castiel hummed.

"He said about 10 minutes." The SO student replied swiftly, surprisingly so considering his position currently, which was slouching a bit, on the couch next to his friend, standing next to him.

"Great." Cas was sizzling the eggs, "Pancakes?" He tried to keep conversation up.

"Ooh!" Cas could practically feel the spark of emotion burst from the joyous 12-year-old. "Er- I mean yes please!"

"Of course!" The, for now, chef, until Raphael got here, lightened up a bit.

"Oh, can you please put some chocolate chips in it?" The whole room felt... Just better.

"I thought you'd never ask."

***

Micheal woke up, tangled in Adam's encompassing grip. It was nice, and he felt rather calm. He never got to hang out with his boyfriend, normally due to school, so it was nice on days like these, where nothing urgent was going on.

So, after drifting between the surface level of sleep, Michael finally managed to sit up. Adam grumbled beside him, glaring at the world around him as he barely opened his eyes to the light, morning sun, streaming gorgeously through the drawn blinds, illuminating the particles of dust that irritated his boyfriend's allergies. "What the fuck?" He drew his last word out longer, glancing around before wrapping an arm around Michael's waist. "It's too fuckin' early," He groaned, "Sleep longer..."

"You can sleep as long as you want, babe," Michael informed, moving to get up, and realizing how chilly the hardwood floor was.

"No, no, I can't," He huffed, groggily rubbing his eyes with his knuckles, "It's too goddamn bright."

Michael smiled gently as Adam sat up, and rested his head against his shoulder, sighing gently. "Do you have any socks I could wear?"

"For you? Yes." He mumbled, kissing Michael's jaw gently, "Bottom drawer."

"Thank you," Michael said, and stood up, letting Adam grumble as he was forced to rely on holding himself up. The older man opened up the bottom drawer and pulled out a pair of sock, nudging it closed with his foot. He slipped the fabric over each foot, warming it significantly compared to the cold floor.

As he glanced over at the bed, Adam now sat up, messy bedhead stick up at any angle it could, resembling a child's drawing of the sun. The young man stared at nothing in particular, eye wide open as he zoned out the world. "Adam?" Michael asked gently, watching Adam blink, and look over.

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Adam groaned, stretching his arms out, and yawning before falling back dramatically onto the so-so mattress. "Ughh!"

Michael smiled over at the other man, "C'mon, let's see what's happening."

***

As soon as the door rang at 6:45, Kevin grinned.

"That would be Raph," He hummed softly, peeking up over his phone to watch as Castiel opened the door and greeted Raphael as well as Gabriel. "Called it."

"You sure did, Kev," Jack said, laughing a little.

Raphael steadily made his way to the kitchen, only stopping to momentarily greet the two boys sitting on the couch. Once he was there, however, he started pulling things out of pantries, inspecting them, and then either shoving it back into the pantry hurriedly or leaving it out on the counter.

Gabriel plopped down on the couch next to Kevin, who tucked his legs under himself to make sure there was enough room so that nobody would have to touch anybody they didn't want to.

"Hey, Kev, so I was thinking about buying a Brigitte skin, but I don't know which one," Jack hummed, looking over at Kevin over his phone.

"How many credits do you have?" Kevin asked.

"4000."

"I say either Engineer or Ironclad," Kevin nodded, deep in thought. "Besides, you already have Shieldmaiden."

"Hmm. You should get something new for Symm skin when I get a new Brigitte skin," Jack said, scratching at his nose.

"I already have all of her stuff," Kevin sighed.

"False. I know you never got her Snowflake spray," Jack objected, triumphant.

"That's not fair-"

"Okay, but did you boys see Ana's Snow Owl skin last year? She pulls it off," Gabriel commented, causing both the boys to turn towards him.

"Wait, you know Overwatch?" Jack gasped.

"Know it? Boys, I'm the reason Sammy downloaded it to our PS4. I've been playing since it came out," he said, tilting his head towards the TV sat in front of them.

"Ohmygodcanweseeyouraccount?" Kevin asked, all his words jumbling together from sheer excitement.

Gabriel grinned and got up to turn the TV on.

***

After everyone had fully woken up, it was about 11 AM. Castiel was content due to the fact he had gotten to watch the Thanksgiving Day’s Parade, and laid on the couch with Dean, watching as Gabe expertly shot his Nano Boost into a Reinhardt. Kevin and Jack audibly gasped as the Reinhardt killed the opposite Genji, charged the Mercy as she went in to rez the Genji, and managed to also clobber the D.va flying nearby.

They looked on in awe as Gabriel got PoTG.

"Nice one, Gabe," Sam said as he walked into the room. "You would have done better with me on your team, though."

"No doubt, babe," Gabe mumbled, giving Sam a kiss on the cheek as he sat down next to him.

***

Over the course of the next few hours, they rotated the remote between those who wanted to play. They continued this pattern until Raphael called that it was time for dinner, and it took everyone by surprise that it was already 7.

They gathered around the table and took their seats. Dean reached out to grab one of the bowls of mashed potatoes before he felt a hand softly grab his elbow.

"Dean," Castiel whispered, "We need to say grace first."

Everyone at the table grabbed each other's hands, some of which were more upset by it than others, and prayed.

"Okay, now we can eat," Raphael said, dropping his neighbors' hands.

They passed the bowls and plates around the table, scooping varying amounts of food onto their own plates.

After they finished eating, there was a solid few minutes where everyone voiced their compliments to Raphael.

"I get it, I get it; I'm amazing," Raphael chuckled, "It's time for me, Gabe, and Michael to get headed home, though," He said, checking his watch.

"Oh, can you give me and Jack a ride, too?" Kevin inquired, sitting up from where he had been leaning against Jack, showing him something on his phone.

"Yeah, come on," Raphael said, gesturing to the door as he shrugged his coat on.

After another minute, everyone had left aside from the Winchesters and Castiel.

"Well, I'm going to my room," Adam sighed, getting up from his chair.

"Me, too," Sam said, nodding at the two of them as he left the room.

"Guess it's just me and you then," Castiel purred, cupping Dean's face as he reached up to kiss him on his lips, both of them closing his eyes as he did so.

"Yeah, guess it is," Dean mumbled.

Dean opened his eyes and stared right into Castiel's gorgeous eyes.


End file.
